Lenny tried to pour himself another drink, but his hands were shaking too bad, and he spilled a bunch of the expensive hooch on the table. His old pal, Sullivan, had been right. He had a knack for playing more than one side. Unfortunately he'd just been drafted by the worst side of all, and there wouldn't be any turning back now. "Sorry, Sarge." He finally gave up and took a long drink from the bottle. "This is just business."
Chapter 5
Gentlemen, we have now reached the last point. If anyone of you doesn't mean business let him say so now. An hour from now will be too late to back out. Once in, you've got to see it through. You've got to perform without flinching whatever duty is assigned you, regardless of the difficulty or the danger attending it. If it is steering the clouds and calling down lightning, if it is hurling fire or steel, if it is breaking the Germans' will, or dragging their Battle Zeppelins from the sky, if it is the closest kind of fighting-be anxious for it. You must know your Power, how to shoot, and how to stay alive. No matter what comes, you mustn't squeal. Think it over-all of you. If any man wishes to withdraw, he will be gladly excused, for others are ready to take his place.
– General Theodore Roosevelt, from speech given to First Volunteer Brigade
(Active) before second battle of the, 1918 Chicago, Illinois Sullivan tossed and turned, fevered dreams eating at his peace.
Finally he gave up, and lay there, shirtless and sweating, miserable and sick, partially awake, his mind still running through the remnants of a muddled dream. Fields of mud and broken trees sticking out of the ground like splintered bones and so many Zeppelins in the air that they seemed to blot out the sky the Germans they just kept killing over and over and over while the Kaiser's sorcerers would just wake them up and send them back into the fray until their bodies had been so pulverized that they could no longer hold a rifle his brother getting half his face torn off by artillery and General Roosevelt dying in a spray of blood and fire under the claws of a Summoned and…
Then he was awake. Sullivan sighed, staring at the dark ceiling. His internal clock told him that it wasn't even close to morning, but he wouldn't be falling back asleep any time soon. He decided that the dream must have been from talking to Lenny. It had reminded him of the bad old days.
He heard flapping at the window, and at first he dismissed it as just a pigeon. But it sounded too… leathery. Sullivan just kept breathing deep. Listening.
Amish McCleary didn't like being called a retard, but he was too scared of Mr. Torrio to complain about it. He would prove to the boss that he could pull his weight around here, and that he wasn't just good for eavesdropping on meetings with bootleggers and hustlers.
He was going to pop the Heavy himself. The big lug had a reputation. He was supposed to be a real tough guy, a hard case, but Amish knew nobody was that tough when they were asleep in bed and you kicked in the door and sprayed them down with a Tommy gun. Who cared if he was asleep? The word on the street would still be that Amish McCleary had been the man who'd had the balls to take down Heavy Jake Sullivan.
That would show Mr. Torrio. Even Al Capone would have to respect him after that, and maybe then nobody would make fun of his cross-eyes anymore.
The Jap sat next to him in the front of the Packard. Amish was scared of Mr. Torrio, but he was terrified of the Jap. One time Amish had gotten curious to see if the Japs thought the same as white men, so he'd used his Power to try to Read him, even though Mr. Torrio had warned him not to. It was like his Power had hit a brick wall. Amish wasn't a very strong Reader. His Power barely worked once in a while, and he could only really get into the heads of the really dumb. When he tried to read smart people he just kind of bounced off. The Jap hadn't just bounced him, he'd booted him out of his head and across the street. Amish's head had ached for the last three days straight.
The Jap didn't bother to look at him, like he was too good to give Amish the time. "The demon returns," he said simply.
The Jap must have had really good hearing, because Amish didn't hear the wings flapping until ten whole seconds later. Mr. Torrio's imp settled on the side mirror and squawked at him. Amish listened for a second. He didn't speak Demon good like Mr. Torrio, but he could get the gist of it. "The Heavy's asleep. Let's go."
The Jap held up a hand. "Send one man in first to make sure the lobby is clear."
Amish hesitated. Mr. Torrio had put him in charge, not the Jap. He didn't know who the Jap was supposed to be or who he worked for, but all of a sudden he thought he could give the orders? But Amish hesitated, because first off the Jap scared him to death, and second, it was a good idea.
Daniel Garrett checked his pocket watch for the fifth time. It was almost three o'clock in the morning.
"It is exactly two minutes from the last time you checked," Heinrich stated, not looking away from the window. The German seemed nonchalant as he watched the nearly empty street and the front of the Rasmussen Hotel, but Heinrich was always composed. The entire world could be exploding around them in flames and Heinrich would still play it cool.
"Well, sorry. I don't have your Teutonic nerves of steel," Daniel muttered. "Are they moving?"
"Nein. Only the one went inside, probably to check the registry. The others are still waiting. We should take them now."
"There's at least six of them."
"All the reason to go now. Element of surprise, my friend."
The two of them had arrived on the last dirigible of the evening. A contact at the Chicago police had told them where Jake Sullivan was staying. The Grimnoir Society prided itself on having contacts everywhere.
Daniel leaned forward so he could see out the stolen Chrysler's passenger side window. He did not like stealing automobiles or blimps, but they were in a hurry, and besides, they always left the things they'd borrowed where they could be found when they were done. He had to shove his glasses back up his nose. His natural vision was terrible. "You don't even know who they are…"
"We're staking out this particular hotel because of our mysterious Heavy, and a group of suspicious men arrive and are also watching the same hotel… Coincidence?"
Daniel thumped his head dramatically on the steering wheel. "Figures. I wonder what Sullivan did to tick them off?"
"I do not know, but he seems to have that effect on people." Heinrich rubbed his jaw. Jane had Mended it good as new, but Daniel knew from personal experience that a magically fixed bone would still ache for days afterward. It was obvious the Society's best Fade felt guilty for letting a Heavy knock him out. You don't sneak up on Fades, they sneak up on you. "I've already said it once, but I do not have a good feeling about this Heavy."
"Don't feel bad. You should have seen the information the General gathered on this one. You're lucky he didn't eat you. Wouldn't be the first German he's done in, I figure," Daniel said, trying to make his young friend feel better, and failing. "They quit pinning medals on his chest when they ran out of room, and you saw how big he was."
"I don't trust him. Maybe the Imperium is here for the same reason as we are?" Heinrich mused. "What do we do then?"
Daniel didn't answer at first. He didn't think he had to. It was open season on anybody who worked for the Imperium, and if they hired the Heavy, then he was fair game too. "You don't even know they're Imperium."
"I can smell s-" Heinrich shifted. "He's coming back."
Daniel leaned forward again so he could see a man walking quickly from the hotel entrance to the parked autos. They conferred through the windows for a moment. After some discussion, doors opened, and men began to pile out. Long guns were removed from the vehicles and quickly covered in loose coats. The man who stepped from the passenger seat of the lead vehicle was familiar, Japanese, dignified, and Daniel swore under his breath as recognition came. He looked just like the photographs smuggled out of Manchuria. "That's Rokusaburo."