"This is an opportunity." Kayla, the CIA agent, said as she steered the car. "We already lost a round in the struggle over the Philby List. If we can obtain evidence of the Quinn family colluding with Mexican drug lords this time, then we can deliver a satisfactory answer before the next convention."
Lila, the Black man sitting in the passenger seat, sighed. "The Black movement has already failed. There are no other revolutionary forces left on this land. We're struggling alone, and every step is difficult..."
"Are you afraid?" Kayla asked. Lila touched the corner of his brow and said, "Perhaps. I've been disappointed too many times already. One more won't make a difference."
"I'm sorry. I couldn't change Moscow's decision. The tragedy of the Black Panther Party should never have happened, but..." Kayla shook her head, clearly deeply regretful over the oppression suffered by Black communists in this country.
Lila showed little expression. He said, "Perhaps we both know that some things have changed. You just don't want to admit it. I dare say that whoever takes office ten days from now will disappoint you beyond measure."
"New changes mean new hope. Change is always a good thing, isn't it?" Kayla pulled the car over by the roadside. The two got out and looked up at the plaque on the high-rise before them. It read: "Quinn Tower."
In a room at the Beverly Hills Hotel in Los Angeles, Hal sighed and looked at Schiller. "You have to find a way to help him. Ever since we came back from Mexico, Oliver hasn't said a single word. He won't communicate with anyone, and he won't eat. This can't go on..."
Hal glanced outside. In the living room, Arthur sat beside Oliver on the sofa, constantly trying to comfort him,