Shane rolled down the car window, letting the breeze carry the scents of the river and industry into the cabin, chasing away the monotony of the journey.
He knew that this seemingly ordinary business trip was, in reality, the key to shaping the future of Hollywood — and that countless eyes were already watching the keyhole.
The next morning, sunlight pierced through thin clouds, glinting off the exterior walls of the factory, rebuilt along the banks of the Wilmington River.
Shane stood on a temporary viewing platform, surveying the deliberately understated reinforced concrete structure before him.
The gray-brown, square façade was unremarkable, devoid of any identifying features, save for a small polished bronze plaque the size of a palm, affixed beside the main entrance:
"Delaware Specialty Chemicals Joint Laboratory"
A damp river breeze swept across the platform, ruffling the clothes of the assembled guests.
Governor Robert P. Robinson stood at the forefront, a tall man with the politician's signature enthusiastic smile, speaking quietly to an elderly gentleman with gold-rimmed glasses.
Senator DuPont maintained a focused gaze, occasionally nodding, his sharp eyes scanning the factory and crowd.
Behind them, six state legislators, including Representative Adams, and Wilmington's mayor stood like a wall of civic authority, suits crisp in the wind, striving to maintain composure.
It was 1928, a pivotal presidential election year. These local Republican leaders understood that a new industrial project backed by the Morgan financial group would serve as an ideal stage to demonstrate economic vitality and secure capital support.
The Morgan Group delegation naturally occupied the platform's center. Richard Worth attentively held an umbrella over an elderly man with neatly combed silver hair — a prominent member of the Morgan family, J.P. Morgan's nephew.
In the shadows, near the platform's edge, a small group of men in suits formed a quiet circle, speaking in hushed tones or observing.
Shane's sharp gaze fell on them: the man with tortoiseshell glasses, taking shorthand notes in a leather notebook, was Levin, MGM's purchasing manager, attempting to appear as a dutiful observer.
Beside him, Coleman, Warner Bros.' technical advisor, nervously tapped the gold-plated case of his pocket watch, his anxiety nearly visible.
A few other seemingly casual individuals scanned ventilation shafts and freight passages, representatives from second-tier studios secretly allied with the maverick Howard Hughes.
Governor Robinson cleared his throat, his magnetic voice carrying across the wind:
"Ladies and gentlemen, today Delaware enters a significant chapter in the history of industrial innovation!"
He raised a crystal champagne glass, amber liquid gleaming in the sunlight.
"Let us witness together the extraordinary vision of the Morgan Group and the pioneering spirit of Pioneer Optics — cheers to the future!"
The crowd erupted in applause and cheers, councilors and the mayor among them.
Richard Worth took the microphone next, delivering a carefully prepared speech with polished fluency:
"This state-of-the-art factory will focus on developing high-quality, specialized dyes for the booming film industry, and we believe..."
Jay's elbow nudged Shane subtly, drawing his gaze toward an inconspicuous freight entrance on the factory's side.
Two men in blue overalls, indistinguishable from local workers, peeked furtively into the passageway. One raised his head, revealing a twisted, dagger-shaped bluish-black tattoo across his neck — the mark of a Chicago mobster henchman under Al Capone.
"Sir, Capone's men are moving faster than usual, more proactive than regular reporters," Jay whispered.
Shane sipped the slightly sour, chilled champagne, a faint smile playing across his lips.
"Let them look, Jay. When they realize this is only a dye facility, the look on their faces will be priceless."
Jay's eyes remained wary. "I'll confirm their numbers and movements, sir. Better safe than sorry."
Shane nodded, still surveying the laughing and chatting crowd. "Do it discreetly. Don't disturb the guests."
Jay disappeared into the crowd, moving like a shadow behind small business owners, his hand signaling a subordinate in a dark suit. The man leaned casually against a pillar, eyes sweeping the perimeter, then silently followed Jay into the passageway.
Shane's gaze swept across the platform once more, taking in the smug governor, the calculating Senator DuPont, and the hidden mob informants.
Every face carried a secret. Every observer was a potential player in a story that revolved around one enormous "magic prop."
Yet the real stage, as always, lay far from the eyes of the unwitting crowd.