years ago. 'Figures.'
'I don't like this,' Cowley said. 'There's too many people around if she goes Active. It'd be safer to tail her to someplace quiet.'
'We already talked about this. We can't risk losing her. She's supposed to be coming here to do a job for the Torrios. You want somebody like her working for Crazy Lenny?'
Sullivan just listened. Strategy wasn't his area. He just did what he was told. Nobody expected a Heavy to be smart, so Jake found life went easier if he just kept his mouth shut, but if it were up to him, he would have to go with Cowley's plan. It wasnlike Magicals didn't catch enough heat from a few bad apples as it was. The last thing they needed was stories in the papers about a Brute taking the heads off some G-men in public.
'You ready, Sullivan?' Purvis asked as he opened his door into the downpour.
'Yeah,' he muttered. 'This is the last time, you know. That was the deal. After this, I'm a free man. I ain't beholden to nobody.'
'Over my pay grade,' the senior agent responded before stepping out. He slammed the door behind him. All down the street other cops saw Purvis appear and the lawmen began to exit their cars as well.
'He better keep a leash on those bulls or this could get ugly,' Sullivan said as he pulled a pack of smokes out of his coat. 'Got a light, Sam?'
'You know I always do, Sully.' Cowley turned around and snapped his fingers. A flame appeared from the end of his thumb. 'Figures God would bless me with a little tiny Power, and he gives a magic lighter to somebody who doesn't smoke.' He chuckled. Cowley was some religion that forbade smoking, a strange combination for a Torch.
Sullivan lit the fag. 'Ironic.' He took a long drag. Sullivan liked the agent. Cowley was homely and avoided the spotlight as much as Purvis sought it. They'd worked together before and Sullivan knew the agent was competent. 'You know, you best not let your boss see you do that. I hear J. Edgar don't like magic.'
'Lots of folks don't.' Cowley turned around and opened his door. 'We better go.' He got out, pulling the Thompson with him.
Sullivan sighed. Cowley was the weakest kind of Magical, with just a flicker of natural Power, but even that could ruin a man's career in some circles. He tugged his hat down low and got ready, feeling the Power stored inside his chest. It took a lot of practice to build up that much and still keep it under control. He activated a small part and felt his body shift. For a brief moment the world around him seemed to flex. The springs on the Ford creaked. He cracked his knuckles, feeling the Spike, gently testing the tug of gravity around him.
Cigarette dangling from his lower lip, he opened the door and slowly unfolded himself from the backseat. Jake Sullivan was a big man, and he used a big gun. He reached back inside and maneuvered the long case from the backseat. The black canvas bag was enormous and he let it dangle from one hand.
Cowley looked over, rain running off his fedora, and pointed at the case. 'I don't see how you can carry that thing around.'
Sullivan took one last drag before tossing his smoke into a puddle. 'Saved your life in Detroit, if I remember right.'
'True, but it has to weigh a ton.'
'Not to me,' Sullivan said as he reached into the bag, grabbed the Lewis gun by its stock and withdrew it. Even twenty-six pounds empty didn't really concern somebody who could alter gravity. To him it was light as a feather and swung like a bird gun.
'Damn, is that a fence post?' Purvis asked, cradling a short barreled Browning Auto-5. 'Put that thing back. This is an arrest, not a war.'
'You don't know Delilah.' Sullivan threw the sling over his shoulder and head so the massive machine gun could hang at his side. It wasn't exactly concealable, but his parole deal had specified he would help take down Active murderers, not that he had to be tactful about it. 'You know, Purvis, I've never got in a gunfight and said afterwards, damn, I wish I hadn't brought all that extra ammo.'
'Put it away, Sullivan. That's an order. I got lots of men who can shoot, and I've only got one that can do-' he waved his hands like a bad stage magician-'whatever it is you do.'
'Where'd you get that monster anyway?' Cowley asked.
'Flea market,' Sullivan answered as he unslung the mighty Lewis and put it back into its case. All the Spikers had been issued heavy weapons in Roosevelt's First Volunteer. He'd brought quite a few souvenirs back from France besides the shrapnel still lodged in his body. He might not be able to take the Lewis, but he still had a.45 auto riding his hip. Magic was great and all, but a lot of problems could still be solved faster the old-fashioned way, and Jake considered himself a practical man.
'Just do your job, and we'll keep you safe,' Purvis promised. 'I want this to go nice and clean. You just wrap her up.'
At least Purvis seemed like the kind of agent that cared more about being effective than being popular in the papers, unlike the fiasco in Detroit six months ago. 'Yeah, fine,' he said, shoving the canvas case back into the Ford. He closed the door too hard. 'You know, Agent Purvis, I know Delilah pretty good. The dame's had a tough run. She's not the kind that'll go down easy, and she ain't going quiet, that's for damn sure. She's a fighter, but I never knew her to be the murdering kind.'
'You saw the same file I did. I've got five dead men that say different. Necks snapped, one arm torn clean off.' Purvis scowled. 'I've got my orders. We take her alive… But I'm more worried about the safety of these boys than I am about orders. You getting me, Heavy?'
Sullivan preferred the more dignified term Gravity Spiker. Heavy was what you called the Passives who were employed in factories as human forklifts. Cold water was slipping inside his trench coat as he shrugged. He just wanted to get this last job over with and finally get the Man off his back. 'I get you, Agent Purvis.' The street was clear of oncoming headlights, so he started across, big boots splashing through the puddles. The six G-men followed.
The wedge-shaped dirigible was gradually slowing between the towers, and when it came to a rest, the passengers would begin to debark. It was slow going in bad weather, and this particular balloon was just a little two-hundred-footer hybrid machine, so it was getting kicked around quite a bit by the wind. The Springfield dirigible station was relatively small, nothing like the enclosed behemoth just constructed in Chicago.
Ground crews were braving the rain and catching the security lines. One man was giving them orders with a bullhorn from the tower, probably a Crackler, redirecting lightning and static electricity to keep the airfield's workers safe at the ends of those cables, but it wasn't like Magicals like that got any credit in the press. No, everybody knew Hearst didn't care about working stiffs with Powers. He only wasted ink on people like Delilah. And me… Sullivan thought, trouble makers, but then shook his head, getting back to business.
He and the Bureau of Investigation men took cover beneath the overhang at the entrance to the waiting room. Through the glass he could see the room was nice, mosaic tile floor, all brass and glass on the walls, with lots of wood and iron benches for the commuters. There were a handful of people waiting. Purvis left two men outside, and the rest got out of the rain and entered the dry comfort of the lounge.
The lift was clearly visible. Sullivan noted that they'd be able to see the passengers before the passengers could see them, which was convenient for once. A United Blimp amp; Freight worker spotted the guns but Purvis flashed his badge and waved the man away. The G-men started ushering people out into the rain as fast as they could, and Purvis sent one to make sure nobody was loitering on the stairs. The uniformed bulls were out on the dark perimeter if Delilah somehow made it past or drew on her Power and turned it into a fight.
Most of the UBF employees didn't know what was going down, but word would spread quickly now. He stood with his back to the mirrored wall. The tower was four stories tall, and that was a lot of stairs, which meant that Delilah would probably come down in the elevator, especially if she had luggage. Either way, from this position he could watch both.
Everything in this place was mirrored and shiny-even the ceiling had mirrors-but the mighty UBF budget had been cut because of the recent downturns, and the place felt kind of grimy. The Twenties had been a huge economic boom time, but Sullivan had spent most of those happy years doing hard time. The papers were calling it a depression, but compared to Rockville, Jake thought the whole outside world seemed pretty damn nice.
The dirigible's cabin made a strange clanking noise as it mated with the docking platform through the roof above. Sullivan closed his eyes and used a little more of his Power to feel the world around him. The giant reserve of helium felt unnatural, being lighter than air, and that always made accurate Spiking a little difficult. He'd have to
