that is. After what they went through in the war, they figured it meant something.”
“I was in the war. AEF,” Lance said. “Dan was too. We were staff officers, though. That’s how we met Pershing. I heard it was much worse for you 1st Volunteer boys.”
Sullivan took the flask back and drank some more. It wasn’t as awful this pass. “I can’t speak for the others, but the 1st… We got gassed, burned, bombed, fought demons, undead… Jesus, wave after wave of the undead. Slept in the mud, lived in the mud, killed in the mud, froze and died in the mud. Then we had the biggest battle in history, Active on Active, gun, knife, and tooth. Fire in the fucking sky and rivers of blood hip deep for days. We killed a million Germans and scorched Berlin off the map with a Peace Ray. All that for a buck twenty-five a day. We were a hell of a deal.”
Lanced helped him keep watch on the Flats as the sun fled. “You know, Jake, I do believe that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say in one sitting. Melancholy renders you downright talkative.”
Sullivan shrugged. “I’m Irish.”
Headlights illuminated them and a horn buzzed. Dan Garrett had arrived.
“Well, I got a truck bed full of goodies. What do you say we go kidnap an Iron Guard and make a little mayhem?” Lance thumped him on the back. “That ought to cheer you up.”
Sullivan took one last look at the remains. They had come looking for a fair shake and had got burned out for their troubles. Life was never fair. Only suckers bought that line. “Maybe you’re right about going out to sea, joining Southunder’s crew. I can make a new life, quit living under somebody else’s boot. Fight the good fight as a free man.”
“Sounds mighty tempting when you put it like that.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ll do… after we save these ungrateful fucks again.”
Dan met them with a firm handshake. Their Mouth didn’t look like much, late thirties, soft around the middle, losing his hair, and wearing thick glasses. In his case, looks really were deceiving because Dan Garrett was one dangerous operator. His magic lay in his voice.
“Evening, gentlemen,” Dan greeted them.
The Mouths liked to call it Influence. The antimagic groups liked to call it mind control. Whatever it was, Sullivan was glad to have Dan on his team.
“How you feeling?” Lance asked.
“I’m fine.” His dark expression gave evidence that he was anything but fine. That raised an interesting question: when a Mouth lied to himself, did he believe it? “Heinrich died fighting. That’s how he would have wanted it.”
“He wouldn’t have had it any other way. Where’s Jane?” Sullivan asked.
“She’s fixing up the local safe house. It’s been empty for a long time.”
Lance and Sullivan exchanged a glance. It went unsaid, but they’d both been hoping for her to tag along. A Healer was a mighty valuable person to have around when you take on an Iron Guard. “She okay?”
“You mean, is she still having nightmares from being kidnapped by Madi?” Dan shook his head. “My wife is far braver than folks give her credit for. No. She wanted to come. I didn’t want her to.”
“What?” Lance sputtered. “One of us catches a Jap sword and we’re gonna be wishing she was here.”
“I told her not to come. I lost her once. I didn’t want to risk it. Something else maybe, but not when Iron Guards are involved. I put my foot down. I talked her out of coming.”
“You talked, or you talked?”
That must have stung. “Go to hell, Lance. She’s my wife. My decision was made. Briefly anyway. Then she told me to take a hike. She’s going to meet us on the way. The woman’s stubborn.”
Lance grinned. “Looks like you married up in more ways than one.”
“Yeah, I know. She’s got more guts than I do. Still, I don’t want her anywhere near an Iron Guard again, but she’ll be tailing close in case one of us gets hurt.” Dan pulled a folded paper out of his coat and passed it to Sullivan. “See if you recognize this.”
He held the page up to catch the last bit of sun. The drawing was in charcoal. It was a complex spell, far beyond anything he’d been able to pull off. Sullivan was one of the only men alive who had seen the Power as it really was, a living creature shaped from alien geometries, and because of that he recognized a few of the spell’s segments, the biological design of the Healer, the interlocking triangles of nuclear forces, even a touch of the hexagram shape of gravity, but as a whole its purposes were a mystery. “Can’t say that I do.”
“Is it Japanese?” Dan asked.
“Their kanji system is different. Sort of pretty. It’s got style. This is… I don’t know. Where’d you get it?”
“Somebody Browning knows. Turns out we’ve got a knight on the government payroll. He arranged a drop. I just picked this up from under a mailbox off Pennsylvania Avenue. This is what the assassin had etched on him.”
“Bullshit.” Sullivan couldn’t imagine binding this to a human being without killing them. Even the few little spells he’d etched on himself had taken him to death’s door, and he’d done that in secret to keep the others from worrying. His older brother had been one of the strongest men alive, able to wear thirteen Imperium kanji, but none of them had been this big. It would take a monster to survive this binding. “Was the killer Jack Johnson?”
“Radio called him a sickly little man.”
“A Grimnoir ring and this thing.” Lance whistled as he took the paper. He was one of the more talented knights when it came to spellbinding. “Something’s fishy. If that’s Imperium, and I can’t think of anybody else good enough to pull this off, they’ve got some new toys to play with.”
“Russian maybe?”
“Naw. Stalin’s wizards are crude. Whoever designed this was an artist.”
“Closest thing I’ve seen to this style was Indian writing. The British brought a few units of them over to fight in the war with us,” Sullivan said. “Lance, would you hijack a bird and make sure Dan wasn’t tailed.”
“Good idea.” There wasn’t any flash or big show of Power when Lance did his thing. It was only as if he was distracted, like his mind was on something else, which in this case it was. “Got a pigeon. Gimme a minute… Looks clear to me.”
“So I got a message to deliver. You got any ideas?” Sullivan said.
“Send them a polite letter? Jane’s got nice calligraphy.” replied Dan.
“I have to do this in person. I’ve got to convince them.” Sullivan replied.
“The ambassador has a compound out in Virginia a ways. There are some mighty big guns in my truck,” Lance said.
“I’ve been doing some poking around, trying to learn about their security and I’ve got an idea.” Dan Garrett shoved his glasses back up his nose. “This may sound a little, well… Hear me out first. I think we should walk right in the front door.”
Fairfax County, Virginia
Dan Garrett’s plan was brazen. They’d gone over it in detail and it still struck Sullivan as a fool’s move. Yet, it also made a certain kind of sense. Stealth was out of the question. Maybe if they’d had a Traveler or a Fade, they could have snuck in, but Faye wasn’t available for a few days and Heinrich was dead. He didn’t know how much time they had, but waiting around for help seemed like a bad idea.
The timing worked. Their informants had said that the ambassador was having a meeting with a group of businessmen, lobbyists, and other various Imperium teat-suckers and hangers on. The folks raking in that fat Imperium money probably wanted to make sure the assassination attempt wasn’t their benefactor’s doing, and if it was, that it wouldn’t hurt the bottom line. Security would be tight because of this, but it would also put a lot of westerners and potential witnesses on the property. That might keep things from turning ugly.
At least the Imperium wouldn’t be expecting their most hated enemies to show up on the doorstep.
The compound was relatively isolated, and even though the county was crowded with over twenty thousand residents, the Japanese had bought up quite a bit of land to keep it that way. The ambassador’s residence was an impressive new construction. Three stories tall, with no expense spared, and designed by some famous architect, it looked like a proper residence for the representative of a rich and growing empire. Surrounded by a twelve-foot brick wall, the property took up several acres, complete with its own small orchard, a fish pond, and a sandbox that it was said the ambassador liked to draw circles in for some odd reason.
Sullivan was riding shotgun while Dan drove the stolen Ford Hyperion. It had been the only vehicle they had
