in the mirror. “I’m really pleased to meet you. This is such an honor. I can tell that we’re going to get along really well. I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
The unfamiliar agent had a soothing voice. Hoover relaxed. “Where’s my regular driver?”
“In the trunk.” The driver laughed. Hoover laughed as well. “No.. Seriously. He’s in the trunk.”
Hoover laughed again. “Splendid!” This new agent had a marvelous sense of humor.
“Don’t worry. He’s alive, just gagged and tied up is all.” The automobile pulled over at the corner. “Well, here’s our other passenger. Isn’t this great? It’s like a party.”
“Indeed.” He was suddenly feeling very agreeable. His door opened and he had to scoot his bulk across the seat to make room for the new arrival, who was an extremely tall and thickset individual. He slammed the door behind him and the automobile immediately roared away from the curb.
“Afternoon, Mr. Hoover,” Heavy Jake Sullivan said. “Long time, no see.”
Suddenly J. Edgar Hoover wasn’t feeling quite so agreeable anymore.
They’d picked a quiet spot, a condemned warehouse that probably dated back to the Civil War. It was a wide open space and quite a bit of light came in through the broken windows. Pigeons cooed in the rafters. Trash and bottles were strewn around, and from the old dirty blankets, it looked like quite a few hobos slept here. They’d found one busted up chair for their guest and Sullivan sat on an old cable spool.
Dan had gone to bring the truck around. Sullivan had figured it was for the best to remove the Mouth from the equation. He needed Hoover to make the deal of his own free will. He hadn’t bothered to tie him up either. That would’ve been insulting to them both. Sullivan had given his pitch. Now he sat, arms folded, and waited for the Director’s response.
“You want me to help you clear your name?” Hoover was incredulous.
Sullivan nodded. “Yep. ’Cause I’m innocent.”
“You kidnapped the Director of the Bureau of Investigation!”
“I didn’t think you’d return my calls.”
“You should be under arrest!”
Sullivan looked around the empty warehouse. “You and what army?”
Being alone and defenseless only made him slightly more humble than when he was surrounded by armed agents. “I used to own you!”
Sullivan did not respond to that.
“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”
“I didn’t think I could go much higher than Public Enemy Number One.”
“Yes, which is frankly an embarrassment.” Hoover rubbed his face with both hands. “They corrupted my own system and used it to embarrass me.”
“The Office of the Coordinator of Information, you mean?” Sullivan chuckled. “How’s the power struggle going?”
Hoover looked at him funny. “You’re well-informed.”
“Very.” Actually, it had been a guess, but it looked like he was right. “OCI used my parole to hang you out to dry. Way I see it, you either messed up and let a dangerous homicidal Active loose on society to serve as your personal hit man, or the OCI’s got this all wrong, and me and my friends have nothing to do with this plot.”
“You’re rather clever for a Heavy, Mr. Sullivan.”
“Gravity Spiker, and you knew that when you sprung me from Rockville. We’re innocent, by the way.”
“The evidence against your group is damning.”
“What evidence? A mad Boomer wearing a spell and a ring makes hundreds of people guilty? That wouldn’t hold up in any court. We’re scapegoats. Patsies. And you know it. That evidence came from the OCI, didn’t it?”
“Of course… Let me go, and I’ll be sure to bring that to light.”
Sullivan pointed. “Door’s thataway. Your car is waiting.” He tossed the keys to Hoover, who, surprised, barely managed to flinch and catch them between his knees. “Don’t forget your man in the trunk. That can’t be comfy.”
Hoover took the keys. “Just like that?”
“I’m here to make you an offer, Hoover, not hold you for ransom. The OCI is a problem for both of us. I can help fix it.”
The Director stood and hurriedly fled across the space, shoes echoing on the hard floor. Pigeons scattered to get out of his way. Sullivan stayed in place, but he figured he wouldn’t have to wait long. He had known men like J. Edgar Hoover before. Though they weren’t nearly as powerful, they were of similar makeup. Everything was about them. Any twist of fate that didn’t go their way was a personal slight. In a military officer, any positive report about a subordinate was felt as if they’d received a reprimand. In business, if the other guy made a buck, then they felt like they’d lost a buck, like there were only so many to go around. Everything was a competition, and no matter how successful they were, they were always bitter, petty men, who couldn’t stand being shamed.
Hoover came back a minute later, his curiosity having gotten the better of him. “What are you proposing?”
“You want to protect the institution you’ve built. I want to protect my people. Neither one of us likes seeing the innocent taking a fall while the guilty get away.”
“Of course not,” Hoover snapped. “I know you hate me, but everything I’ve done has been to defend this great nation from our enemies.”
Sullivan gave a sad little smile. Hoover was lecturing one of the most decorated veterans of the Great War about defending the country. “I believe you. Despite what I think of you, you sure do like putting the bad guys in jail. I respect that. Have a seat.” He waited for the pudgy man to return to the broken chair. “I’m assuming you know the truth about Mar Pacifica?”
“Anarchist Actives-”
“It was the Imperium.”
Hoover scowled. “That’s classified.”
“I was there. Don’t tell me about defending this nation, when I personally killed the man responsible for taking over the Peace Ray. I cut his head in half with a Jap sword. The Tokugawa? That was us too.. We’re on the same side here, Hoover, and you know it. I know you’ve got your hooks in everything. I’d like to share information.”
“You have been busy. Very well. You go first.”
That was expected. “I just did. Now you’ve got a confirmation about who killed the Chairman and saved New York from being vaporized by a Tesla weapon.”
“And the Geo-Tel?”
Sullivan was impressed. Hoover was just as well informed as everyone said he was. “Destroyed.”
“Hmmm… I don’t know what to say about that…”
Thank you would be nice for once. “Tell me about the OCI.”
It was obvious Hoover didn’t like being manipulated, but he was a man who liked to explore his options. “A very secret, very minor, unimportant agency started by President Wilson, specifically to study magic and gather intelligence on known Actives.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“As I said-secret. They were authorized emergency police powers after Pacifica.”
“I thought monitoring Active criminals was the BI’s responsibility.”
It was obvious this part put Hoover in a sour mood. “It was. OCI was to monitor Actives in general. After the Peace Ray, some… confidence was lost in the Bureau’s abilities. OCI had already laid the groundwork and was prepared to step in. They’ve capitalized on recent events to increase their authority.”
When he put it that way, government infighting didn’t sound much different than the mobs jockeying to control different rackets. Another gang shows weakness, you make a move. “Why are they framing the Grimnoir?”
Hoover paused, as if thinking about how much precious information he was willing to part with. “Perhaps they think you really are responsible?”
“I was a detective, remember? They can’t be that stupid. They’re not trying to conduct an investigation. This is an extermination.”
The top G-man in the country gave him a bit of a smile. “Very good, Mr. Sullivan. A lone killer, no matter how
