“The elevation is crap. Stupid place to put an energy weapon,” Lance said.
“I think the idea was that it would make an impressive silhouette, looming over the Capitol. Symbolic and all that. Anyways, they finally gave up and built this region’s Peace Ray over on Catoctin Mountain, but before that decision, they’d finished the bridge and a couple of buildings. Officially, there’s nothing there, even though you can see the lights from the other shore. According to Hoover”-Sullivan drew a square above the bridge-“this is where the OCI has set up shop.”
“Good place for a secret police force. No flash, nice and secluded, out of sight, out of mind,” Dan said, “but driving distance to where the action is.”
“We can bet it’s fortified and heavily guarded. With twenty good men I could hold a place like that from now ‘till doomsday. This isn’t going to be easy.”
“Maybe there’s another option,” Ian insisted. “Why don’t we go after this Carr and take him out of the picture instead?”
Sullivan sounded weary. “Thought of that. First, they’ll still have our people. Second, Hoover said Carr hasn’t left OCI headquarters since the assassination attempt. He’s been working through intermediaries and telephone calls.”
“He’s scared of us,” Lance suggested. “Damn well ought to be. That’s what happens when you poke the wrong hornet’s nest.”
“You’ll still need whatever evidence they’ve got inside there anyway.” Pemberly hadn’t spoken in a while. She knew she wasn’t very popular.
“I don’t recall asking you,” Lance said, sounding distracted, but that was how he normally was when part of his brain was occupied somewhere else. “Yesterday you were working for the enemy.”
Faye turned to him. “I think she’s okay.”
“You thought the same thing about Isaiah Rawls,” Lance responded gently. “Right before that treacherous son of a bitch near killed us all.”
Faye blushed. Lance had her there. She’d been the one that had spilled General Pershing’s secrets. At the mention of his father-in-law’s name, Ian visibly bristled, but didn’t speak up. Lance had no way of knowing the relation, and since Ian was in a room full of people who’d suffered because of Rawls, keeping his big stupid mouth shut was smart. She could tell it was difficult for him. Ian sure did like to argue and always be right. Faye didn’t hate Ian as much now that she understood why he was such a bitter know-it-all jerk, and he’d been brave in Ada, though she was still mad about being pushed out the window.
“Lance, is it?” Pemberly asked. “I’m risking my life by being here. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even know your friend was alive. So you can stuff it.”
“Well, excuse me, missy.”
Faye thought that Lance and Pemberly sounded kind of alike. Not their voices, because Lance sounded like all deep and grumpy and Pemberly sounded kind of light and pretty like she might sing real nice. It was more about how they talked, with an accent like they should be riding horses and branding steers and other cowboy type things. Some folks said Faye had an accent too, a country one, but she couldn’t hear it, so she figured they didn’t know what they were talking about.
Mr. Sullivan seemed to be ignoring them. He was too focused on that map to pay attention to little things like squabbles. He got that way sometimes. While Faye seemed to be at her best when her brain was bouncing around between topics a million miles an hour, Sullivan focused on one thing until it got done. “Biggest problem is going to be those magic nullifiers. Place is probably crawling with them and we don’t have a clue how to stop them. Stealth is out. Faye could pop in and get stuck and we’re missing our Fade. Without magic, we’re just guns, and they’re bound to have more of those too.”
“They can’t have too many men, though,” Dan mused. “If they’re as dirty as we think they are, they’d have to run a tight operation. Problem with conspiracies is the more people know, the more likely somebody will talk.”
“I’d like to assume that, but I can’t. I’d rather not shoot a bunch of know-nothing security guards just there trying to do their job that don’t know any better.”
“We might not have a choice,” Dan said. “They’ve declared war on us.”
“Maybe. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve killed a bunch of folks who didn’t know no better… Keeps a man up at nights. I really don’t want to do the same thing with my own countrymen if I don’t have to.”
“Me too, Jake, but how many of our kind are going to die if we don’t?”
“Said I didn’t like it, never said I couldn’t do it…” Sullivan muttered, deep in thought, as he ran one finger down a line representing a wall.
“Mr. Sullivan, if I may?” Whisper lived up to her nickname. It seemed bigger groups made her a little bashful. “Mr. Sullivan?”
He broke away from the map. “Huh?”
“Do you still have this box? The Dymaxion, you called it?”
He rummaged through one pocket and came out with a small orange cube. “Right here.”
“Could you turn it on? We can all try our Powers and see if perhaps any of us can work around it.”
The orange lid hinged open to reveal a sparkly ball inside. “Good thinking.” Sullivan touched it with one finger and gave it a shove. Faye thought it was rather pretty, the way it caught the light, and made bright spots swirl around the room. “Try it.” Whisper held up her hands but there was no fire. Ian looked like he was thinking too hard. Faye checked her head map and got… nothing. It was terrifying.
“Hey, Hammer,” Dan said. “I totally trust you a hundred percent and think that you’re just swell and really look forward to working with you.”
“Oh, now I know my Power is broken,” she answered.
Lance held up one hand. “Jake, shut that thing off.” Sullivan put a finger on the ball and the spinning stopped. Faye’s head map came flooding back. “Interesting… Start it again. Okay. Stop.”
“You got something, Lance?”
“Maybe. Ian, while it’s down, bring in a spirit or something.”
“Give me a minute.”
Jane sounded perplexed. “Very strange. I can still see everyone’s insides, just like I always have, but I can’t feel my Power. I don’t feel like I could Mend anyone, but shouldn’t I see everyone like a normal person would?”
“That’s too bad, honey. Then you’d finally be able to see just how ruggedly handsome I really am,” Dan quipped while rubbing one hand through his thinning hair.
“Oh, Dan. I love you just the way you are.” She took his hand. “Squishy and filled with juice…”
Whisper squealed and jumped as a gigantic barn rat scampered in front of her shoes. “Relax,” the rat and Lance said simultaneously. “You got a critter yet, Ian?”
The curtains rustled as if there was a light breeze, but the windows were all closed. “Yes.”
Sullivan spun the ball again. They all looked at the rodent expectantly. The rat turned to Sullivan. “I feel fine.”
“You can’t see it, but the spirit I called up is floating right over there,” Ian said. “That ball only stops magic from happening, it doesn’t banish something that’s already in effect!”
The rat did a couple of back flips to prove the point. “Yep. Looking good.”
“Neat! Can you make him dance?” Faye asked. Whisper was cringing. “You can toss fireballs at a super demon, but you’re scared of a big mouse?”
Her “ S ” sounds were even more pronounced when she was upset. “Because it is disgusting. Yuck. Look at it. So vile.” Faye had to wonder how much of that was an act. It was almost like Whisper wanted folks to think she was softer than she really was; she just did it automatically. It was as much a mask as her makeup. Faye had seen her standing in the middle of a raging firestorm ready to fight to the death, and that sure wasn’t sissy behavior. Whisper was an odd one.
“Oh well. I grabbed the prettiest one in the bunch, too.” Lance let go of his Power and the rat panicked and fled the
room. Whisper stood on her chair and didn’t get down until she was sure it was gone. Faye didn’t mind rodents. They made decent enough company as long as they weren’t eating your food or giving you plagues.
Sullivan put the nullifier box away. “We can work with that. We know Crow used one of these on Francis, so unless that was his real body, we can assume that’s how Crow’s magic works too.”
“Good, but if we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it right. I’m tired of wasting my talents on puppies, vermin, and livestock,” Lance said. “I’m in the mood to run something mean, something carnivorous.”
“For the rescue, but in the meantime-”
“I know, I know. Rodents and birds…” Lance looked over at Ian. “Sounds like me and you are going on a little scouting mission, kid. We’ll leave at sundown.”
Ian looked pained at the idea. Serves him right, Faye thought. Ian liked to be bossy, but nobody could boss Lance. If Lance decided he respected you enough, like Mr. Sullivan for example, he’d listen, but anybody else who told him what to do was likely to get a punch in the mouth. Lance didn’t take no guff off anyone. Working with him would be good for Ian’s attitude.
“Well, that’s two that aren’t completely useless. What about the rest of us?” Dan asked.
Sullivan went back to staring at the map. “We’ll figure something out. We always do. Any word back on our request for reinforcements?”
“Browning is on his way with one other knight. No idea what he can do. As for the other groups, not yet,” Dan answered. “I think the elders are inclined to have everyone lay low.”
“Damned cowards,” Lance spat. “Fat lot of help they’ve ever been.”
Ian’s temper got the better of him. “Now hold on. They’re anything but cowards. There are more battles going on than just the ones you know about.”
“They got something more pressing than my friend getting hung? Maybe some party to attend? Let me check my social calendar.” Lance folded his thick arms and glared at the younger knight. “We’re going with or without them and they damn well know it. If they don’t have the spine to help, that makes them yellow.” Faye resisted the urge to clap. For once Ian had no response. The Summoner was surly, but he was nothing compared to Lance Talon. “They need to wake up and realize that if we fail here, everyone in the world is in big trouble. They pin this particular crime on us and get away with it, the whole Society is done forever. We need help and we need it now.”
Whisper had returned to her chair and was straightening the dress she’d borrowed from Jane. It was baggy on her. She seemed to be intrigued by what Lance had just said. “What kind of help would you like to have them give, then?”
Lance looked to Sullivan. The big man shrugged. “Men. Weapons. Plenty of each. More Powers that we can use to take out these nullifiers, and more Powers we can use to fight our way in and then back out. Then resources so we can get away. It’s hard to say when you don’t know what you’re facing and the whole thing might just be a trap.”
“It isn’t a trap!” Pemberly was exasperated. “I’m sick of telling you, I heard what I heard. He was telling me the truth.”
“I didn’t say you were in on it.” Sullivan’s voice was flat. “But you’re assuming that you’re smarter than this Crow fella. Don’t underestimate the enemy.”
Faye chimed in. “I’m just hoping he underestimated us!”
This visit had been expected. Toru opened his eyes to see that Sullivan had entered the barn. He stayed seated on the dirt. The Heavy leaned against the pickup truck and studied him. “I need your help.”
“Are you ready to learn more of the Pathfinder?”
“Believe me, nothing I’d like more, but I’ve got to handle some business first.”
“Very well. Come and get me when you are ready to learn. Otherwise, leave me be,” Toru closed his eyes and pretended to go back to his meditations. He was curious to see what the Heavy would do.
As expected, Sullivan was persistent. “You swore to help me.”
“To help you defeat the Enemy in order to fulfill my father’s final wish. I do not care about your petty Grimnoir struggles. If your government destroys the Grimnoir, so much the better for the Imperium. They have always been a small, but annoying, thorn in our side.”
“I thought you weren’t Imperium anymore?”
“There is a difference between a warrior without a master, and a traitor… I am no traitor.”
“Neither am I. Accusation hurts though, don’t it?”
An unexpected tack. Sullivan was more perceptive than he looked. “Yes.”
“You’ve seen a lot of war, haven’t you, Toru?”
“All Iron Guards know is war. It is what we… They do.”
“Now some fraud has taken your honor away… Been there myself. Hurts.”
We are not the same. “What do you know of honor?”
Sullivan did not respond. The truck springs creaked as the Heavy shifted his weight. A match was struck and Toru could smell the smoke from Sullivan’s cigarette. He wasn’t going anywhere.
“Nothing you do here makes a difference, Sullivan. Your troubles now are insignificant compared to what is coming.”
“I know.”
Curious. Toru opened his eyes. “Then why do you waste your time? We should be preparing for the war against the Pathfinder. We should be building a new Dark Ocean.”
“With who?”
“Any one who is worthy, of course.”
“A bunch of worthy folks are going to die if I don’t help in this fight.”
“Then they should be stronger!” Toru snapped. “Leave me be.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head, feigning disinterest. This was not Toru’s war. Sullivan was a fool to even think that Toru would lower himself to fighting the wretched Grimnoir’s battles.
The cursed Heavy stuck around. “I got a question for you… Been nagging me since you got here. Why else did you leave the Iron Guard?”
“I told you. I have an obligation to Okubo Tokugawa.”
“What else?”
“What do you mean ‘what else?’ That is all that matters.”
“Before all this, how’d a Brute like you get put in the diplomatic corps? Strength, speed, damn hard to kill-Brutes are the top tier of combat-capable Actives. Why’d the Imperium take you off the front lines? You’re still young enough, healthy enough, and you act like you’re always looking to fight. The Imperium’s fighting in how many countries right now?”
“Six,” Toru answered sullenly. “If you count the Chinese and Thai rebels.”
“Seems a waste to pull a fighter, with an Active talent that’s practically born for war, off the line and send him to an embassy a couple thousand miles away from where the action is.”
“If you are trying to get me to slip up and admit to knowledge of covert Imperium operations in the United States, I will not do so.”
Sullivan chuckled. “Oh, of course not. I was just wondering how you fucked up bad enough to get kicked out of the meanest army in the world. Maybe you weren’t tough enough… You bastards worship strength.” Sullivan made a big show of reasoning it out. “But since you’re a Brute, it couldn’t have been physical toughness you lacked. Cowardice?”
“Go away.”
“Incompetence?”
“I said go away. ”
“Had to be something.”
Manchukuo. The competitions, who could collect the most peasants’ heads in an hour? Who could make the biggest pile of ears? He remembered watching the starving prisoners fight for the officers’ amusement, the pleasure women with their blank expressions and eyes where the soul had long since fled, the Cogs and their infernal sculpting of flesh. Manchukuo had been a dark time. It had not been a war befitting the Imperium that he believed in. It had been madness. Toru had disapproved of the troops’ bloodlust. His disgust was taken for weakness. His questions caused dishonor. His hesitation to obey his superior’s orders had brought him shame.
�
��Maybe you just lacked the stomach for it-”
It was too much. Toru surged to his feet, covered the distance in a split second, and grabbed Sullivan roughly by the collar. “I will not be questioned by the likes of you!”
They stood eye to eye. The Heavy did not so much as blink as he rolled his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other. “You talk about being worthy to fight the Pathfinder. How am I supposed to know that you really are?”
“I was Iron Guard, the finest warriors in history!”
“So you say. Why don’t you prove it?”
“I can do so very easily.” Toru tightened his grip on the Heavy’s coat. It would be so easy to rip his heart out. Sullivan kept on staring him down, surely ready to fire his own Power. It would be such a satisfying fight. “Here and now.”
The sound of an automatic pistol’s slide being racked came from the loft. “Need a hand, Mr. Sullivan?”
The Heavy looked Toru in the eyes. “Naw, Faye. We’re just talking is all.”
“Okay. I’m gonna hang around for a minute if that’s okay, though.”
“Not like this, Toru,” Sullivan lowered his voice. “I know you can fight. We’re not going to brawl with the Pathfinder and we’re sure as hell not going to beat it in a duel. Show me you’re a soldier. You’ve pledged to help me. Prove it. Show me what you’ve got. There’s a fight coming. Show me you can follow orders and function in a unit.” Sullivan spit his cigarette on the ground and smashed it with his boot. “Prove it to me or walk the fuck away.”
The temptation to rend him limb from limb was great, but the obligation was all that mattered. The Chairman’s ghost had asked for this man among the multitude he could have requested among their American foes. He had not asked for a military leader or powerful politician. He had asked for Sullivan for a reason. It was not Toru’s place to judge worthiness, when Okubo Tokugawa had already done so himself.
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