Crow seemed remarkably forthcoming, a sure sign that Heinrich would be killed as soon as he was no longer of use. “What do you want with me?”
“I want to talk to you about the Grimnoir Society.”
“I do not know this thing you speak of.”
“Spare me the lies, Fade. I’m familiar with your little club and my assignment is to destroy it.”
This man knew much. “Torture me all you want, I have nothing to say.”
“Too late. You already sang. Usually those truth serums don’t work so good, but couple of sodium-thiopental drips, remarkable new invention that stuff is, with a few Readers picking through your brains for a whole day, and I got what I needed.”
It was possible. He could not remember. “You are a liar.”
All Heinrich could see of the man’s face was the small bit illuminated by the striking of a match. Crow was smiling. His teeth were yellow. The teeth disappeared as he cupped his hand and lit his cigarette. “The Grimnoir play it close to the vest. We figure there are maybe three or four dozen of you in the country, but you only know the ones you work with. After you immigrated, you answered only to Black Jack Pershing. John Browning, who didn’t have a fatal heart attack, was his number two. The remaining members of your group are that safari hunter, Lance Talon, Francis Stuyvesant the industrialist, Heavy Jake Sullivan, a Traveler named Faye Vierra, and Dan and Jane Garrett… You know I used to listen to his radio show? The man was good. He could do like a million voices. Amazing talent, that guy.”
“Leave them be,” Heinrich said, “or you will regret it.”
“That’s some big talk for a snitch. You gave up a few of the others outside your particular group, too. They’re all out there, thinking they’re doing the Lord’s work or some such nonsense. I got twenty names out of you, mostly here in the states, and then you blabbed about your old pals in Germany. But they’re not my problem. Twenty names… Twenty living, I should clarify. You gave us plenty of the dead ones. You boys have one hell of a casualty rate.”
Heinrich saved his anger. He was examining his options and coming up with nothing. Killing this man would be very satisfying, but he could see no way to accomplish that in his current situation.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m so interested in your friends.”
“Not really. I assumed you were Imperium swine.”
“Ha! That’s a good one. I wouldn’t work for the Yellow Peril. I bleed red, white, and blue. I even fought you tricky magic Krauts back in the Great War. No, see, me and my organization are supposed to clean up your kind. You Actives think you’re so much better than regular folks. I’m the law. Things need to change and people like you would gum up the works. You Actives won’t be happy until you take over. Some of our elected officials didn’t have the guts to do what needed to be done. Except as soon as you Grimnoir tried to murder President Roosevelt, that all changed.”
“That is ridiculous. I tried to save the man, not kill him.”
“I know! You should be getting a medal, not rotting under OCI headquarters. Heh, just between you and me, I know you Grimnoir didn’t do it. We’ve already got conclusive evidence upstairs.” Crow blew out a perfect smoke ring. It hung under the single light bulb. “But nobody in charge is going to see that evidence until I’m done cleaning house. I’m sure as hell not going to let a good crisis go to waste. My office just got a blank check to do whatever we needed to do to get you people under control. You know how rare that kind of pass is? In a little while, Congress will go back to getting cold feet and fretting about overstepping its bounds, but by then it’ll be too late for your kind.”
Heinrich had told Francis that Actives were going to end up caged like dangerous dogs. This was a terrible time to be proven right. He studied this new threat, trying to understand what he was up against. Something about Crow’s eyes was wrong in the dark. The glow of the cigarette reflected in them a little too well. “You talk of controlling Actives… Yet you are one of us. No?”
The interrogator’s posture changed the slightest bit. Crow’s voice was imperceptibly different when he responded. “Me? Magical? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It makes you uncomfortable, this place? Not being in contact with the Power? I know that I do not like it already. Working here must be very challenging for you.”
“You got all the answers, Kraut? You talk a lot for a man in chains.”
“You speak of Actives as if we are a different species, but you know this is not true. You are very good at playing a part. I assume you wanted me to think of you as a true believer on a moral crusade. I wonder what you expected to gain from that.”
The cigarette ash nodded up and down. “Oh, you’re good.”
“Yes, I am, and the good always win in the end. I would very much like for you to remember that as I choke the life from your body.”
Crow banged on the door. It was opened for him a moment later. “I’ve enjoyed our conversation, Mr. Koenig. Be seeing you.” The door closed behind him. Then the small light was shut off, leaving the prisoner in the dark.
Curious indeed. Heinrich went back to testing his chains.
Crow found the OCI’s audio technician in the next room. “Did you get that?”
“It should sound nice and clear.”
“Excellent. I want the tape to start at where I first mention the Grimnoir. Then cut it off right after I say that it’ll be too late for his kind. Got it?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Crow. I can do that.”
So far these Grimnoir had impressed him; they were a tenacious bunch, but their loyalty to each other and their cause made them vulnerable. This was going to be like shooting fish in a barrel. “Call me when the recording is ready.”
Bell Farm, Virginia
Sullivan woke up sore. Jane’s magic was miraculous and all, but it would have been nice if the pain didn’t linger on afterwards. There was no longer a rib sticking in his lung, but it sure felt like there was. That Iron Guard had damn near punched a hole through him. He had fallen through a train car once and it hadn’t hurt that bad. He and that particular Brute son of a bitch were going to meet again, Sullivan was sure of it.
The two-story, eighty-year-old safe house was on an abandoned farm thirty miles southwest of the Imperium compound. It was in the middle of nowhere, didn’t have electricity or indoor plumbing, and was frankly a dump, but Jane had bought plenty of groceries the day before; there was a pump, an outhouse, a wood stove, a barn to hide their cars in, spells carved into the walls to thwart Finders, and the beds didn’t seem to have fleas.
Opening the moth-eaten curtains, Sullivan discovered that it was an overcast, grey day, and it was hard to estimate the time without the sun. His belly told him it felt like lunchtime, but burning Power that hard always made him extra hungry. He found his watch on the nightstand along with his holstered. 45. Sure enough, it was nearly noon. It wasn’t often that he got to sleep in. Maybe I should get beat up by Brutes more often.
There was a polite knock on the door. That told him who it was. Dan would have knocked with more authority and Lance probably wouldn’t have bothered at all. Sullivan winced as he pulled his shirt on. “Coming, Jane.”
Once he let her in, the Healer examined him critically. She folded her arms, tilted her head, and scowled at his lungs. Sullivan had to admit that Jane Garrett was one good-looking dame, blonde, tall, curvy, and somehow always incredibly neat. In their paint-peeling, dingy-as-sin surroundings, she was a ray of sunshine, though her bedside manner did leave something to be desired. She walked over and poked him hard in the side. “Hmmm… How does that feel?”
“Tender.” He was not used to a beautiful woman staring at him that intently, but he had to remind himself that to Healers like Jane, everybody looked like see-through bags of skin filled with blood and guts. It was one downside to the most popular of all Powers, but Jane insisted that she was used to it. “So how do I look?”