Mar Pacifica had been his brother’s doing. His big brother had been a genius, an evil genius, but a genius nonetheless. The Imperium had drawn first blood, weakened its enemy, and gotten away with it. That same attack had cost Delilah her life. Matty, I hope you’re slow-roasting in hell.
“Whole place is going to blow up now. Good thing it’s too cold to riot tonight,” Sullivan muttered.
“Not down South it’s not. I’ve heard some awful things have happened already. Business burned, random Actives gunned down…”
He’d have to get in contact with the Society quickly. They would be doing damage control, and hopefully, if the assassin belonged to some group, making the rest of them go away permanently. This kind of thing was exactly why the Grimnoir existed, protecting Actives from Normals, and vice versa. He’d gotten rather good at communication spells, and that was much cheaper than a telephone call, but first things first. He needed to get rid of Cowley. “So why the visit?”
“Listen, Jake, this isn’t Bureau business. I’m on loan to another agency tonight. Things are a little chaotic right now. I can’t talk about it. You need to come with me right now.”
“Where?”
“New Jersey.”
“Why?”
“A matter of national security.”
As a straightforward man, he had no patience for evasion. “No.”
“Look, I can’t tell you until we get there. It’s top secret.”
“I’m going back to bed.” Sullivan stood up.
“Well…” Cowley relented. “Fine. I don’t know what’s going on, exactly. I said I would ask you because I reasoned that you seemed to like me more than anyone else who works for the government.”
“That’s not saying much, Sam.”
“This place is surrounded.”
Sullivan went to the window and pulled back the curtains. Sure enough, there were police cars parked along the street. NYPD uniforms and plainclothes overcoats both, the men five stories below were huddling for warmth beneath the lamps. It was a modest show of force, but he wasn’t impressed. Sullivan had fought through everything the German army could throw at him and the Chairman’s personal Iron Guards. The hardest thing about getting through the bull’s perimeter would be not accidentally hurting any of them. “Why all the law?”
“There are some new rumors about you… Things that made my.. colleagues nervous. In particular something about you fighting the entire Japanese Navy by yourself.”
How did the BI know about that? None of the Grimnoir would have talked, because they certainly knew how to keep a secret, but it could have come from one of Southunder’s men or the UBF volunteers from the Tempest. “That’s just crazy talk… It was one ship with a skeleton crew and there were about fifty of us.” It had still been ten-to one-odds, but there was no need to exaggerate.
“Who is us?”
Cowley, being a man of integrity, would probably make an excellent Grimnoir knight. However, that wasn’t Sullivan’s place to decide, though he would suggest the possibility to John Browning the next time they spoke. “Just some friends of mine.”
“I just know what I’m told. Orders are clear. You are to be driven to a certain location in New Jersey as soon as possible. You’re not under arrest. This is not to send you back to Rockville or anything like that. You have my word. This is a request from your government, but you absolutely have to be in New Jersey by morning.”
“And if I refuse, those cops down there pump my guts full of lead?”
“No. You have to be alive. That’s orders. I volunteered to come up and talk, because I told them you can be hardheaded, but you’re basically a decent sort. However, even if we have to shoot you down with tranquilizer darts and throw a net on you like some sort of wild jungle cat, you’re going to Jersey.”
Sullivan let the curtain fall. “Well, hell, Sam. Now you’ve got me all curious. And they do say that curiosity killed the wild jungle cat. Let me get my coat.”
There was one of the new Ford V10 Hyperions waiting. The engine was running and the exhaust formed a cloud in the chilly winter air. Cowley opened the passenger door and gestured for Sullivan to climb in.
“Nice ride,” Sullivan said as he sat down.
“That’s why we’re taking mine. Government cars are garbage scows in comparison,” said the driver.
He looked over to see who it was. “Well, that figures.”
“Evening, Mr. Important,” the woman from the library said.
“You left off the Nobody.”
This time she was wearing a cold-weather dress, and her hair was light brown rather than bright red and tied back neat and plain. “Let’s take a ride.”
“A wig… Too bad. I fancy redheads.”
Cowley got into the backseat and closed the door behind him. The Hyperion featured a state of the art interior heater, and that made the night slightly more bearable. The girl put it into gear and took off entirely too fast. One police car got in front and turned on its siren while another pulled in behind and did the same. Wherever they were going, they were planning on getting there quick.
“How long you been following me?” Sullivan asked her.
“Found you yesterday. Watched you all day today,” she answered, all business, eyes on the road. The socialite accent was gone, replaced with one that sounded vaguely East Texas, and he had no idea if it was real either. “It was easy to do, what with your nose in a book the whole time. You know normally men tend to notice me sooner when I’m all dolled up like that. It makes tailing men challenging.”
“I can imagine. Sorry, been preoccupied. Miss?”
“Hammer.”
“Nice to make your acquaintance, again. Miss Hammer.” Which probably wasn’t her real name either. There weren’t any females that worked at the BI other than clerical staff, and judging by the way she had played him like a sucker earlier, she was no stenotyper. “I didn’t know Hoover had started hiring lady agents.”
“He doesn’t,” Cowley chimed in. “Miss Hammer’s a-”
“Freelance consultant,” she said. “I don’t work for the government. I take care of odd jobs. I’m assuming you’re not offended by a woman in the work force.”
“Can’t say I’ve given it much thought. The mugging?”
“Oh, nothing I couldn’t handle, but I provoked those boys on purpose. Boys like that are rabbit dogs. They see something run, they’re going to chase it. Can’t help themselves, poor things. It’s in their nature. So don’t get feeling blue for hurting them. Only way a rabbit dog learns not to chase something is to beat the chase right out of it. You did them a favor. Maybe next time they smell fear, they’ll think twice.”
Got played again. “Did you get a good show?”
“I was fairly certain it was you from the descriptions, but I needed to make sure. My clients pay me to be thorough. I learned all about your history, Sullivan. Up until you dropped off the face of the Earth last year.”
She knew quite a bit about him; he knew nothing about her, except for an impression that she was crafty, and therefore dangerous. “Why are you here?”
“I’m protecting my current employer’s interest. You knew some mobsters… Well, the mob’s got nothing on big companies when it comes to protecting what’s theirs, and we can play pretty dirty too.”
“The Bureau calls it industrial espionage,” Cowley said.
“I would never participate in anything illegal like that, Agent Cowley,” she said. Hammer was a superb liar. “Your name came up at my client’s and it became very important to find you. That’s why they called me. I tracked you down. My client had already asked a favor from the BI so they were looking too. My client suggested I work with them in order to expedite matters. So here we are.”
Sullivan had done his best to cover his tracks, and his ring was spellbound against Finders and Summoners. Whatever Hammer was, she had talent. He should probably get her card and pass it on to Francis. UBF might be able to use her, and Francis certainly loved the industrial espionage angle of the business. “Your client must be an important man.”
“Was. Passed away last year. I work for Edison General Electrical.”
Thomas Edison? Why was EGE, founded by one of the greatest supergenius Cogs of all time, interested in him?
