Characters: Howie Alcott
Summary: Howie gets quite the surprise at work.
Notes: Canon. This specific scene may not appear in the legacy itself, but Howie does work for the Sim version of the FBI, and someone is going to be accused of being a Simmunist (communist).
Word Count: 632
Howard Alcott got up from his desk and began to walk around his small office to stretch his legs. Well, it was really his injured leg that was bothering him. After sitting at his desk since early that morning and listening to the rain pelt the small window all day long, it was no wonder that his old war injury was acting up. Deciding that maybe a fresh cup of coffee would give him the kick he needed to plow through the last few hours of his shift, he pulled all the papers off his desk and locked them in a drawer before heading towards the elevator which would take him down to the cafeteria.
Upon his arrival, he noticed that he wasn’t the only one with the idea that coffee was the solution to a dragging afternoon. Nodding to several of the other men who were seated at the tables in the room, he paid for his coffee and decided to take it back upstairs. It wasn’t as if he would talk to the other people in the cafeteria anyways. It was one of the hazards of his job; there wasn’t a whole lot of camaraderie. Then again, it was probably to be expected, considering the fact that he was an FBI agent assigned to investigate suspected Simmunists in the greater Portsimouth area.
He smirked ruefully as he reentered his office. No one, not even his wife, knew exactly what he did for a living. They knew he worked for the FBI, of course, because of his involvement with intelligence on the ship during the war but no more than that. Howie reflected that his father would probably be proud of him, rooting out the Red scourge from Simerica, but in order for him to do his job properly he needed to keep exactly what he did under wraps. People tended to act differently around someone who caught Simmies for a living, he’d learned.
As he perused the files of suspected Simmunists active in the city, there was a knock on his door. He looked up to see his boss, another manila folder in hand.
“I’ve got another one for you, Alcott.”
Howie suppressed a groan. “For every one I’m able to close the file on, I get two more in return.”
“I know you’ve got a more than full plate, but this one is connected to some of the others you’ve been investigating, so it made sense to add him to your case load.”
Howie got up and accepted the folder. He opened it, and gasped in shock when he saw the name and photograph staring back at him.
“I know him, sir. Our families are friends. Have been for years.”
“Well, that should make it easier to investigate him, shouldn’t it?”
Howie was left alone in his office to review the rest of the contents of the file. His boss hadn’t been kidding – this guy had connections to everyone else that he was already investigating. In face, Howie was surprised that the name hadn’t come up before. But it still didn’t make sense. Of all the people in Simsfield, he was the last one Howie would have suspected of having Simmunist sympathies.
“It could just be a coincidence that he’s friends with all these other folks,” Howie mused. “I hope that’s the case.”
Looking at the clock, he realized it was time to go home. He locked the files up in his desk, formulating a plan for his latest investigation as he did so. Normally, he did his best to prove a Simmunist connection. In this case, he was going to try his hardest to disprove such a connection.
“I hope it’s not true. If it is, it’ll kill his wife, the poor thing.”