Disclaimer: Rupert Holmes created this wonderful bit of TV...I mean no sacrilege. But he really shouldn't keep us *hanging* for 6 months...
Betty looked over toward the moan and Scott. "How is he?" She turned her attention back to Victor, who had crumpled on the floor after firing at Pruitt.
"He'll live..." Scott watched her, finally understanding her cold shoulder treatment for the past 5 or 6 months. "What is going on?"
"I don't know. Scott, what do we do?"
He looked back down at Pruitt. "This guy will spend a great deal of time in jail." There was predatory gleam of triumph in his eyes as he looked at the unconscious form of the malicious accountant. Pruitt's state of unconsciousness was due to a good right hook, not the bullet that grazed his shoulder. Scott shook his hand to relieve the pain. "But what do we do with him?" Meaning Victor.
"He was acting so strangely...This isn't the Victor I know..." She added in a soft whisper, "Or love."
Scott didn't answer right away. He could hear voices outside. "Hand me the gun."
"What?"
Instead of repeating, he stood and walked over to Victor and took the gun that lay beside him. "First of all, I have evidence that Pruitt's friends at Seldon Sentry are Nazi sympathizers. I confronted him with that information and he drew a gun. I shot him."
Betty looked at him in astonishment, but just nodded. They both looked up as the door opened.
C.J. stood there surveying the scene and nodded. "I have Mackie outside, keeping everybody out." He looked at Victor, then Betty. "I've wondered if you knew."
"You?" Betty asked. "You're his contact?"
C.J. just nodded as he knelt down beside Victor. "When he disappeared, we feared the worst." He stood and walked over to Pruitt. "You don't need to change anything..." He took the gun from Scott, and picked up the one that Pruitt had dropped. "I have it all on disk." He moved a plant to reveal a microphone. "He'll rot in prison for a long time." He grinned as he turned to Scott. "And it looks like his friends will too." There were more voices, and then Mackie's excited voice cut through the noise. "I think my friends have arrived." He moved to the door.
"Friends?" Scott and Betty asked together.
"FBI." C.J. grinned at their puzzled looks. "This will take some time..."
Two well dressed men in charcoal gray suits entered the greenroom and looked around. C.J. stepped up to them and they spoke quietly.
The older, gray-haired agent pulled out his identification. "Good work." He knelt down by Victor. "So this is Comstock. We had more information arrive last night from our London office." The other agent was examining Pruitt, who moaned as he stirred. "We'll have to ask you questions..."
"What about Victor?" Betty asked.
"Ma'am, I'm afraid I can't divulge any information." The older agent looked at C.J., who nodded. "We'll take him to a clinic. Our information suggests that he was under mind control..."
Betty sat down on chair. "Under mind control?" Scott moved to stand behind her.
"That sounds so...awful."
"It can be." The older agent stood.
The door opened again and Mackie stepped in, "What in tarnation is going on..." His voice faded as he looked about. "My god, what happened here? Scott, you finally got revenge on Pruitt..." His jaw dropped open as he recognized Victor. "Don't tell me...Nobody tells me anything." He stood there, looking completely lost.
The younger agent shook his head. "This station is so closely involved with this case, I think it is only fair to tell them..."
The older agent furled his brow, but nodded. "I'll have to get clearance."
He walked out of the room, but returned quickly. "Can one of you operate the switchboard for me?"
"I can." Betty stood and followed him out the door. She noticed there were two more agents in the hallway--and she thought she saw one standing outside the entrance. Her hand shook as she plugged the cords into the correct holes, then handed the agent the phone. He motioned her away and she complied.
The events of the past--was it really just an hour, were starting to tell. Her hands shook. So Scott loved her...A liar, con-artist...but really a dear man...And Victor, he too had shown he loved her...
Instead of returning to the green room, she went to the writer's room where she buried her head in her hands. She'd nearly been killed. Victor had nearly been killed. Scott...She burst into tears.
There was a knock at the door. She looked up. "Yes?" She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.
"Betty, you all right?" It was Scott, his voice full of concern.
"No." She wasn't sure she was ready to speak to anybody yet.
"Victor is conscious. They're taking him someplace. Mr. Hoyt..."
"Who?"
"The agent in charge. He said that they will keep you informed..." He looked pretty upset, Betty realized.
"Thanks, Scott." There was a thud from down the hall. "What?"
"They're tearing Pruitt's office apart. You know, I had my suspicions about the man."
She looked blankly at him, "Huh?"
He smiled weakly. "He didn't prosecute me. And then let me come back to work here. I'd like to see the books..."
"You don't think?" She closed her eyes, after all the work she had put into this station, all of herself--to have it closed down because of a...a...A satanic Santa.
"They'll close the station?" Scott shook his head. "I hope not..."
"Scott..." She didn't know how to continue--didn't know if she was ready--so instead picked up a script. "We need to make an announcement to inform our audience that due to technical difficulties we'll be off the air until tomorrow morning." She sighed as she looked at the script for Hands of Time.
Which only reminded her of another problem. Hilary or Jeff.
Scott smiled at her. "Piece of cake. I've learned a little about radio while I've been here."
"Thanks." She watched him leave. After a couple of minutes, she followed him out the door. She, after all, had a radio station to run.
~~~
Hilary stopped outside the door to the station and looked at the little man who was escorting her. "Do you know who I am?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he said in a monotonic nasal tone. "I saw the Rivals. Right now, your presence is required here."
Hilary pushed open the door and arrogantly stepped in and stopped at the sight of a half-dozen strangers working. "Who are all these people?"
The unfamiliar young brunette who sat at the receptionist desk looked up. "Hello. You must be Miss Booth." She was not yet thirty, but severely dressed in a gray suit with her hair in a tight bun. She looked at the agent who was accompanying her. "They're all in the green room. The boss is waiting."
"Isn't this a bit melodramatic? Would somebody please tell me what is going on?" Hilary Booth was confused. She'd left the station just four hours ago with Jeff hard on her heels. She'd finally lost him in the ladies room at the cinema. "Everybody is here?" She asked softly. The woman at the receptionist desk nodded. Hilary paused, took a deep breath and put on her best *actress* persona. Then she walked down the hall and opened the door. In her actor's voice, she asked "What is going on?" Everybody was there, looking solemn.
There were three unknown men standing by the window. "I'm Special-agent Robert Hoyt. Please have a seat Mrs. Singer..." The older man stepped forward and motioned toward the empty seat.
"Miss Booth," She looked at the empty seat--next to Jeff. She moved to a corner and remained standing.
"There are several missing in our little drama," Hoyt said, with a half-smile. The irony of such a melodrama taking place in a radio station wasn't lost on him. "But we'll start our story. You all remember a little over a year ago there was an air raid in London..."
There was a sniffle from Eugenia, who along with Mr. Foley and Maple, was totally confused.
Agent Hoyt continued. "One of the survivors was, we thought, in an ideal position to help us. And he agreed to the idea." He was observing the audience, with a grim smile. He noted that Miss Roberts was clinching her fists, and that Mr. Sherwood was watching her carefully.
Mackie spoke up, "Victor." Everybody looked at him. There were several gasps from the unsuspecting.
"Mr. Bloom is correct." Agent Hoyt remarked. "Mr. Comstock went to Germany, established his identity as..."
"Jonathan Arnold," Maple said with a look at Betty. "But how did Betty find out?"
Betty smiled half-heartily and nodded, but Hoyt continued speaking. "Four months ago he returned to Pittsburgh, supposedly to take care of personal business. He saw Miss Roberts at that time..." He looked at her, and she nodded again. "We recruited C.J. to help us find out how messages were being sent out from this station..."
"Someone will pass between the portals..." Hilary looked around the room. "It was that night..."
Betty nodded, she wasn't ready to say anything.
Hoyt looked at Hilary, then Betty for continuing. "C.J. was Victor's contact. After the incident with the Amazing Andy..."
"Amazon Andy," Mackie whispered.
Hoyt ignored him and continued, "...Show, we thought the sympathizers would stop using WENN as a message station. But we soon learned otherwise. I'm afraid that the leader of this group of Nazi-sympathizers, while a decent accountant, was not a very good spy. Mr. Pruitt continued to use this station to send messages..." There were several exclamations of surprise at this revelation. "...Not a very smart move. Mr. Pruitt is nothing--if not arrogant. We haven't determined all the details of what happened next, but Mr. Pruitt somehow discovered that Mr. Comstock was Jonathan Arnold and in fact was an agent for the allies. He relayed this information to a woman.
We've not discovered her real identity. But you knew her as Pavla Singer."
"Jeff married a German agent?" Hilary asked incredulously. "Well, she was blonde..."
Agent Hoyt shook his head. "Mr. Singer was the sort-of fortuitous accident that a good spy takes advantage of. She arranged the paperwork. It was forged. There was no way someone in this country could have discovered that..."
Jeff smiled in relief, then looked at Hilary. She looked at him coldly for a few seconds, trying to think of an appropriate retort. Suddenly she smiled warmly. "Oh, Pumpkin...Can you ever forgive me?"
"For what Hilary, darling?" He stood and walked to her side.
"She contacted Mr. Pruitt," Agent Hoyt droned on--the group was mesmerized by his story--except for the couple in the corner. "We do know that he told her about Victor's identity...and that she relayed the message to her contact."
"The hussy," Hilary spoke. "She wasn't after a career in the U.S. after all."
"Actually, she was." Hoyt grinned slightly. "Our agents apprehended her a few hours ago outside a vaudeville theater in Boise."
"Vaudeville." Hilary nodded in approval. "How perfectly delightful." There were several chuckles.
"Our people sent word for Mr. Comstock to leave...Then lost contact with him. The Nazis brainwashed him and sent him back to Pittsburgh. He was programmed to kill his contact--the person who said *buy barley futures* in this room." He looked about the room.
"This is why he was so vague about things?" Betty asked.
"Most likely. We have little experience with mind control. He remembers bits and pieces. He may never remember everything. It might be best if he never did."
"Can we visit him?" Eugenia asked. The others voiced their concern. Mr. Foley leaned forward to speak, but Eugenia shook her head and indicated he should remain quiet.
"That remains to be seen..." There was a lot the agent wasn't saying. Mostly because he didn't know... "I think we can arrange something."
Maple shook her head. "Rollie Pruitt, Nazi sympathizer. I mean, he was not a nice human being, but a Nazi sympathizer. Here at WENN?" She looked at her friends. "And what happens to us?"
"We are investigating, but at this moment things will remain unchanged. Except everybody, every sponsor, every show will be scrutinized carefully and discreetly. We have a plan to use this station to send dummy messages to trap the rest of the saboteurs."
Agent Hoyt looked around the room and nodded to his two subordinates. They left the room. Hoyt readied to follow them, but first turned to face his audience. "I must remind you that *everything* that has happened today, that I've told you, is highly confidential. Please don't tell anyone else." He looked at Scott for a long second. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
Scott shook his head. "I don't remember meeting you before today." His voice was calm and friendly.
Gertie stood up, "And I thought that Hands of Time was bizarre." She looked around the room, then at Agent Hoyt. "You will let us know when we can visit Victor?" A simple statement.
"Yes Ma'am. Somebody will be in touch." He walked out of the room.
The cast and staff at WENN looked at each other with stunned and shocked looks. Betty stood to address the group. Her voice shook a little, but became firmer as she spoke. "We have a radio station to run. I'll see everybody here tomorrow--regular times." She smiled at Jeff and Hilary. "Oh, and I guess we'll need a new general-manager. Scott?"
He smiled at her and nodded.
Mr. Eldridge stopped at the door, "This means Mr. Pruitt won't be buying my lottery ticket." He shrugged and walked out.
The End
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