David Boop

It’s 1953 and I’m a shamus working the streets of Industry City. I don’t rely on instinct; science is my game. The cases I get, and the booze I drink, keep oblivion just a step away. That is, until some rich recluse walks in and tells me that accident from all this years ago was a set-up, a frame job, and I was meant to take the fall. Now I have to clear my name… like that’s easy. Everyone’s keeping secrets. Who can I trust? My neighbor, the mysteriously connected Wan Lee? Or the songbird Merlot Sterling? Her lies are almost as beautiful as her voice. Even the muscle-bound bodyguard I inherited can’t keep the hit men, spies — or my own government — from trying to put me six-feet under. You see, this secret organization believes I know something and wants to keep me quiet. All I do know is they’re aiming to remake the world into their own twisted image using a device I created. They’ve already axed one world leader, and Ike could be next. God, I could use a shot of bourbon and some answers, but neither comes cheap these days. It’s 1953 and scientist-turned P.I. Noel Glass is tortured with the guilt of an early experiment gone awry. When a rich recluse offers proof that the accident was a set-up, Glass swears to clear his name. However, a clandestine organization is trying to conquer the world using his “failed” invention, but Glass stands in their way. Who can he trust when everyone has secrets? The songbird with a mean right hook? His Asian mobster best friend? Can Noel ignite his lost soul and face the ghost he swore he laid to rest?

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