“Ah! Don’t do that,” Dan said.
“You deliver your message?” Lance asked.
“Sure did. Managed to wreck the place in the process. I convinced all those rich boys that the Chairman was swindling them. They must have had the possibility in the back of their minds because I didn’t even have to push hard.”
“Where’s Sullivan?”
“Down here.” Sullivan was lying on the back seat. “A Brute stomped a mud hole in me and walked it dry.”
“Hush while I work, Jake,” Jane ordered. “Good thing you’ve got that Healing spell on you or you’d be drowning in your own blood right now… Wait… More spells? Whatever have you been up to?”
Before Sullivan could answer, Lance shouted, “You got company!” Dan couldn’t see anything. “Car is going to catch you at the next intersection. Turn it around.” Lance must have grabbed an owl.
“You sure it’s Imperium?”
“There’s a guy riding on the running board with a machine gun. I don’t recall Virginians being that inhospitable.”
“Shoot,” Dan hit the brakes. There was a ditch on one side and trees on the other. There was no good spot to turn around. He shifted into reverse. “Hang on.”
“That Iron Guard didn’t strike me as a quitter,” Sullivan said.
Dan backed into the tree line, cranked the wheel, and then got them going back the way they came. He gunned it, but it would take a minute to get up to speed. There were headlights in the side mirror. “Here they come.” He watched the speedometer climb too slowly and found himself wishing that they’d kept that Hyperion.
The back window shattered. The Imperium had opened fire. Dan took them around a long curve and out of view. The shooting let up momentarily. His wife reached over and picked up the Thompson that had been occupying the passenger seat. Dan’s throat was tight. He had to get them out of here. He had to keep Jane safe.
The road straightened back out. The Imperium would be able to see them again. The Japanese machine gun opened up with a ponderous rate of fire. Red tracers flew past, and then another round hit. Stuffing flew from the passenger seat. Then the glass in front cracked. Jane answered and let the Thompson rip. The headlights behind them swerved side to side, but the flashes from that machine gun kept up. Then the side mirror exploded and Dan couldn’t watch anymore.
“There’s a fork ahead,” Lance shouted through the magical link. “Bear left.”
“That’s the wrong way,” Dan said.
“Do it!”
The road split into a Y. Dan swore and went left, which was taking them further out into the country, and even worse, into open farmland where they wouldn’t be able to shake their pursuers. “You better know what you’re doing, Lance!”
Iron Guard Toru pulled the spent magazine from the top of the Type-70 light machine gun and let it clatter down the road behind them. The marine in the passenger seat handed him another magazine of 8mm ammunition through the window. Toru rocked it into place and yanked back the bolt.
The car swerved as the Grimnoir returned fire. A normal man probably would have been thrown from the side, but all it did to Toru was upset his aim. That, the bumpy road, and the insects hitting him in the face were making this a challenge. “Hold steady!” Toru ordered.
The lights of the Grimnoir auto veered to the left, so he rested the Type-70 across the edge of the roof and squeezed the trigger, trying to walk the tracers into the moving target. One of the red taillights went out and his magically augmented hearing recorded the metallic clangs of puncturing metal.
The Grimnoir were fools. He had scouted the surrounding countryside during the construction of the ambassador’s home. There was nowhere for them to hide in this direction. He would cut them to ribbons.
The Type-70 only had a 30-round magazine, and he burned through it in seconds. He tossed that mag and stuck his hand in the window for another. He’d barely finished reloading when he looked up to see a large black cow running into the road. It stopped, silhouetted in their headlights. He could have sworn that the cow looked right at them and winked.
The driver hit the brakes and tried to turn, but he was too late. They hit the cow at nearly sixty miles an hour. The front of their car crashed into the solid animal. Toru flared his Power to hold on, but the aluminum handrail he’d latched onto tore through the sheet metal like paper.
He hit the road nearly eighty feet away, traveling fast, and smashed against the asphalt, bounced a few times, then rolled. The Power draw was intense, and he did his best to keep it up, but there were limits to even Brute toughness and he felt bones break and muscles tear as he gradually flopped to a stop.
It took Toru nearly ten seconds to collect himself. His four Healing kanji were all burning Power, desperately trying to fix his ruined body. He groaned and got to his feet. The machine gun was gone. The Grimnoir’s remaining taillight disappeared in the distance.
Toru muttered an oath that was far beneath the station of an Iron Guard.
Leaving a trail of blood from several deep lacerations, Toru weaved back to the wreck. One marine had been thrown through the window and into a field, and the driver had broken his skull against the steering wheel. Fluids were pouring from the engine. Their car was not going anywhere.
Somehow the accursed black cow was still alive, though not for long. All her legs were obviously broken, but she still managed to lift her bloody head to look at him with surprising intelligence. The farm animal then spoke to him with a voice like that of an American movie cowboy. “Didn’t see that coming, did ya, asshole?”
They had a Beastie. “Damn your foul animal magic, Grimnoir.”
“This link really hurts to keep up, but I just love to see the smug get wiped right off an Iron Guard’s face.” The cow laughed at him.
Iron Guard Toru limped over and punched the cow to death.
The fire had been put out by the time Toru walked back to the compound. Someone must have reported the commotion because a fire truck and a police car were stopped at the main gate. He was glad that the guards had followed protocol and not let any of the local authorities through. The identity of their guests had to be protected at all costs. Having such American business luminaries show up in the newspapers as consorting with the Imperium would be an embarrassment to them and a blow to the Chairman’s mission of infiltration and conquest.
Toru’s clothing was mostly destroyed, and though his wounds had sealed on their own, he was covered in drying blood. To avoid any entanglements with the American authorities, Toru had simply leapt over the back wall. The men could handle the police. His mind was preoccupied, dwelling on the horrible duty that he had to confront.
The captain of the guard gave him a brief report. The man was still flustered from having actually been addressed by the Chairman. Now that the Mouth’s Influence had finally worn off, the guests were regaining their composure. The American police had been told that the fire was an accident, everything was under control, and that attempting to investigate the ambassador’s residence would cause an embarrassing diplomatic incident. Of course, they already had an agreement with the locals, so the predetermined amount of gold had exchanged hands. Ambassador Hatori had been secured as ordered. Toru inquired if anyone had spoken with the ambassador, and was told that the ambassador had not said a single word as they had led him away. Toru was glad to hear that, because he had not been looking forward to having to kill any other acquaintances tonight.
After dispatching the captain to gather the bodies from the scene of the accident, the Iron Guard went inside. The beautiful atrium was totally destroyed. Hatori’s meticulously tended garden had been torn to pieces and spread across the entire building. It filled Toru’s heart with sadness. Master Hatori had been very fond of this space. It had been his connection to their beloved homeland and favorite meditation area. The Heavy would die painfully for the slight.