April 1, 1935: 4:30 p.m.: Chicago, Illinois' Union Station:

The arrival at Chicago's famed Union Station was hectic, with passengers boarding and deboarding. Detective Kinney had been nursing his headache for far too many hours now. He spent almost all of the last nine hours traveling up and down the extremely long train from car to car, only missing the actual engine in his search. It had done him no good. He had never come across anyone even vaguely matching the man he was looking for. The only odd experience he had during the entire day was his confusing reaction to the singer in the all girl orchestra that was traveling to California. Despite his failure to spot his suspect, Brian still had a sense that the young man was on this train. Call it cop's intuition, but he couldn't shake the feeling.

The train would have a long layover in Chicago so Brian got off and found the nearest phone booth. He searched his pocket for the right coin and dropped it into the slot. He quickly gave the number for police headquarters to the operator and then dropped in a few more coins when instructed to. He waited patiently. His head continued to throb as he waited and finally heard a click on the other end of the line. He lucked out when the cop on the desk informed him that Captain Horvath hadn't left the office yet. He tapped his foot waiting for Carl to answer the line. He noticed a whole troupe of women exiting from one of the cars and couldn't miss the pretty blonde in the center of the group. The redhead exited behind the group and gathered them around her. Brian was too far away to make out what she was saying, but he could imagine her barking out orders like a drill sergeant. The women were nodding their heads in agreement and then escaped down the ramp and into the cavernous building that was Chicago's depot.

Brian's mind wandered back to the second time he had watched 'Sunny', the singer performing. He had unconciously made it a point to return to the observation car in time to enjoy the second set of rehearsals the band put on for fellow travelers. Brian was mesmerized by the blonde singer's truly beautiful voice. It had to be one of the most captivating voices he had ever heard, but there was something else about the singer that drew him. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. The more he thought about it the more he decided it was those eyes... those deep, blue eyes.

Brian had the feeling he had looked into those eyes many times before. They seemed to be speaking to him in a language he just couldn't quite decipher, at least not for now. There was an innocence and yet longing in those eyes, as if the young lady was searching for something but afraid to find it at the same time. It called to Brian, which probably was what was throwing him for a loop.

He loved his job solving crimes and protecting innocent citizens, but he never really felt the urge to be protective of anyone outside of his job. He just didn't like it when someone bullied or abused someone else... either their jobs, their families, their finances, their well-being, or their very lives. He hated bullies and criminals, which was why he became a cop in the first place. It probably went back to a childhood that was controlled by his abusive father. Whatever it was, Brian had always left his protective nature at work. At home it was pretty much every man or woman for themselves.

For some reason this 'Sunny' gave him the feeling that he should stay close and keep a watchful eye on 'her'. Just then his thoughts were interrupted by the Captain's brusque voice. Brian made quick work of checking in and giving Horvath all the facts, not that there was much to relate. He finished his report and waited for the man to react. He wasn't really prepared to abandon the search because he still had a hunch that Taylor was on board hiding, but it would be up to his superior officer. Carl took his time mulling it over but finally responded.

"So you still have a gut feeling that this isn't a wild goose chase? Is that what you're telling me?"

"I don't know why but that's the way it is, sir. There are plenty of places for someone to hide even in an enclosed environment like the train. I simply can't think of any other reason for that young lady I interviewed to have that particular train information written down. The timing is just too coincidental, in addition to the fact that the suspect has not shown up anywhere in the city and we know he had no financial resources. His friend did, so who else would he turn to? I guarantee you his father didn't come to his rescue. If you'll approve it, I'd like to continue on this trip until I'm more convinced he simply isn't on board."

Brian waited again while the Captain thought a bit more. He had faith in Kinney. The man was a very good detective and his hunches had a habit of turning out right. With that thought in mind he made his pronouncement.

"You go ahead and continue on Lieutenant. Consider it a working holiday." The man let out a short laugh. "If I'm not mistaken you haven't taken a vacation in two years. If you make it all the way to Hollywood you can check out the footprints in front of Grauman's Chinese Theater. I hear they just got Shirley Temple's footprints a couple of weeks ago."

"Cap, I didn't know you were such a fan. But isn't she a bit young for you?"

"Very funny smartass. My little girl loves her so I get dragged out to see her movies. Anyway, just keep me informed on what's going on. Call me when you get to your next layover. Maybe you'll have some better news for me by then."

"Will do, Sir," Brian answered, putting seriousness back in his tone.

He hung up the phone and debated as to what he should do next. After some thought, he decided he would check out the town. He had heard of a few gay-friendly spots that he could frequent and who knew, maybe he could get a little relief. After all, the Captain told him to consider this a working vacation and the train wasn't scheduled to pull out until after eight. Maybe a quick fuck would sharpen his senses. Brian turned on his heel and made straight for the nearest exit to find a cabbie. He just barely missed his target, who had been talked into joining some of the girls for a ride to view the legendary Windy City by Cherry. If they were lucky, she had announced, they would run into some local gangsters, although most were either dead or incarcerated like Al Capone.

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Same Day: Same Place: 8:20 p.m.:

Johan Jaeger hurriedly thrust a couple of bucks into the hand of the red cap who had helped him to his first-class bedroom on the train. He had arrived in Chicago with plenty of time to spare, which he put to good use as he placed call after call to his clients and explained why he might not be able to keep appointments with them for the foreseeable future. He wasn't worried about their reactions. After all, where else could they go to get what he was selling? 

It made Johan a little angry that he had to waste his time like this in the first place. If only that bastard, Vanderbeke hadn't been so greedy, he thought to himself. The son of a bitch couldn't be happy with the money he was making off the stolen paintings he was selling in the back room of his art gallery. No, he had to go and hire starving, but talented, young artists to make forgeries of those same stolen paintings and then try to sell them as the real thing. If he had gotten away with it much longer he would have ruined Johan's reputation in no time at all, and then he would never be sought after again for the job of filching paintings that collectors wanted so badly whether they could display them openly or not. 

Johan felt like kicking himself for going into partnership with Vanderbeke in the first place. He had done well selling the stolen paintings one on one, but a chance meeting when the man caught him red-handed with a stolen 'Matisse' in his hands at an estate in France led to the realization that he could make more money and have a larger client base using Vanderbeke's connections. It had worked well for several years but then Johan got word from a client that a painting he had purchased was declared a fake by the crooked appraiser he had hired. The client couldn't go to the police of course, since they knew it had been stolen, but their threat to destroy Johan if he didn't fix the problem wasn't to be taken lightly. As a result he needed to prove to himself that Oscar was behind the forgery, and that it wasn't a simple case of he himself unwittingly stealing a forgery in the first place. 

Johan convinced his old friend Christian Beecher to request a fake of one of his own paintings to see if Oscar was into that business. It didn't take long for Chris to report back that Oscar had jumped at the chance to provide the necessary services, even mentioning that he would have to hire someone new since his old forger had moved out of town recently. It was all the proof of Oscar's guilt that Johan needed, and he decided then and there to remove the problem of forgeries of his stolen artwork as soon as possible. He hadn't counted on the young artist that Chris had mentioned being present when it happened. 

A part of him felt sorry for the kid. It was just his bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sentiment, however, had never been one of Johan's strong suits. He had been on his own ever since his father was killed just prior to the beginning of WWI and the family had emigrated to America. They had been dirt poor, and he learned the hard way how to survive on the mean streets of the city. Once his mother passed away due to the lack of funds for proper medical care, he made up his mind that he would be rich some day and New York City seemed a good place to make that fortune. The first few years had been abysmal failures. All that changed when he ended up sharing a cell with an experienced art thief after getting caught for a petty theft that had only netted him a little over a hundred dollars. 

Once Johan was released he waited for his new mentor to be released too, which fortunately was only a month later. That day changed his entire life. He found he had an affinity for artwork in general, and the lifting of it in particular. He was far more stealthy than even he had known. Ten years later he had amassed a small fortune and by the time his mentor unexpectedly died from a heart attack while on a vacation in Cuba, Johan was more than prepared to go out on his own and continue to reap the rewards of his craft. Almost twenty years had passed without incident and he had gained both respect and allies in the real world of high society without many knowing who and what he really was. He had no intention of letting a piss-ant like Oscar destroy what he had carefully built. Unfortunately, he was now facing the consequences of his actions.

Johan settled into his room and opened his expensive new suitcase. It was filled with the fine clothes and accessories his wealth could afford him. Everything was brand new. He had left New York in such a hurry that he hadn't even taken a thing with him. It didn't matter. He used the extra time he had before the train arrived to shop, something he took tremendous pleasure in doing. He even bought a diamond and pearl ring for his girlfriend. He imagined her pleasure when she got a peek at the hefty stone. 

Johan relaxed. He dug out the revolver from under his packed clothes... the same make and model as the one that ended Vanderbeke's life. He knew what the detective on board looked like, and he knew what the kid looked like thanks to his connections in the police department. He would find them both. The detective would either be his means to finding Taylor or end up in the way of him finding him. Didn't matter which. He would get to the young man, one way or another. Once he had gotten rid of the witness to his crime, he could get back to his normal life. That day couldn't come soon enough for Johan. 

To be continued.................................