He stumbled. He had to stop the bleeding soon or he was going to die. Closer. He was next to the truck. Both of the OCI men were screaming their heads off. One blind, one with ruined hands. Francis spotted a pistol on the ground, tugged on it, and it flew over. The driver tried to run, but Francis shot him in the back and he fell. Then he turned and shot the blind one in the head.
Blood was pumping out of his leg. He’d seen enough combat to know that a leg wound bleeding that much was really bad, but he couldn’t stop to look at it yet. There might be more men. Francis made it to the back of the truck. Whatever was back there was heavy, and the big truck was sitting low under its load. The bed was covered in canvas tied shut with ropes. He ripped apart the knots and flung the canvas open with his mind before spinning around the edge. There was nobody back there. He’d gotten them all.
Woozy, Francis slowly lowered the pistol. The truck was packed full of barrels and the whole thing reeked of chemicals. A length of cannon fuse led into one of the barrels.
There had to be a couple thousand pounds of explosives in the truck. It was a bomb. A really big bomb.
He found himself facedown. Francis was unsure how he’d gotten there, but the grass was cool and damp against his cheek. Everything else was going numb. Good work, Francis. You saved the day, he told himself before passing out from blood loss.
Chapter 20
If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on the human face-forever.
OCI Headquarters
The United States Coordinator of Information, Bradford Carr, Ph. D., was trapped in his office. He was against one wall, back pressed against a multitude of plaques and awards, nervously sweating, while a Siberian tiger sat on its haunches in the middle of the room, watching him carefully. Carr had inched toward some of the display weapons, but a low growl from the tiger had informed him of what a terrible idea that would be.
“Nice catch, Lance,” Sullivan said as he entered the office.
“Thanks. Big as he is, it would be like eating a water buffalo, which is very tempting right now, you have no idea, but I figured we’d want him alive.”
The esoteric weapons were neat and all, but Sullivan marveled at all of the books. From what he knew about the Coordinator, this place was a treasure trove of information on magic. Hell, he would have done this job just to loot this library, let alone rescue his friends, but first things first.
“Let me go or you’ll regret this,” Carr sneered. “I’ve got a force of robots that will-”
“We already broke them. Your men are either dead or swimming, and we destroyed your pet demon too. So save your breath.” Sullivan turned to Lance. “It looks like Whisper blocked the bridge for now, but we need to get a move on.”
“Francis and Heinrich?” There was dried blood all over the tiger’s face, but none of it appeared to be from the tiger.
There was a rasp from the door. “I am here.” Sullivan turned to see a very battered Heinrich Koenig. His face was swollen with bruises and cuts and his shirt was hanging in blood-stained tatters. He’d found a pump shotgun somewhere. “But they took Francis away.”
It was good to see the Fade had made it. Sullivan had taken a real liking to the tough German. Sullivan strode over and punched Carr in his ample stomach. Sullivan took it easy, but only because he didn’t want to accidently kill the man. Carr sank to the carpet, purple-faced and gagging. “Where’d you take him?”
“Go to hell, Active rabble,” Carr gasped.
“We should question him somewhere else,” Heinrich suggested.
“Yeah, cops are going to be on the-”
“No. There is a black hole growing in the basement of the main building. It is devouring everything and expanding rapidly. We only have a few minutes.”
“A black hole?” It could never be simple.
“I’ve got to get her out of here. I’m about out of Power, and I don’t think you’re going to want her around when I lose control,” Lance said through the tiger. “Catch you boys later.” The animal turned and bounded from the room.
Heinrich calmly stepped out of the way to let the predator pass. “I cannot emphasize this enough. We really must be going as well.”
That meant it was seriously bad. Heinrich certainly wasn’t the dramatic type. Diamond had secured the building that Lance had said housed the other prisoners. There was nothing else keeping them here. Sullivan looked sadly at the shelves of books. Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.
Toru appeared behind Heinrich so silently that he even made the Fade jump, and that was saying something. “Sullivan, your prisoners have been freed and are being taken to the boats, but something strange is happening at the main building-”
“Told you,” Heinrich said as he studied Toru suspiciously. “Who are you?”
“That’s our new Iron Guard,” Sullivan said. “He’s okay. I’ll explain later.”
“I am imprisoned for a brief time and everything goes to hell.” Heinrich shrugged. “Very well. I am Heinrich Koenig.”
“Toru.” The Iron Guard nodded. “You seem more accepting than the others of your kind.”
“Oh, I despise all Imperium scum, but I have had a very difficult day. I will worry about it when we are not being sucked into a magical vortex, which will be happening very shortly. Speaking of which…”
Sullivan grabbed Carr by the neck and hoisted him to his feet. He gave a quick pat-down but the Coordinator seemed to be unarmed.
“You’re Heavy Jake Sullivan, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
“I was afraid of that,” Carr muttered. “You have a considerable reputation in some circles.”
“You picked the wrong man to slander. Come on.”
“Wait, Mr. Sullivan. I know you’re a student of magic. If he is telling the truth about our impending destruction, there is something priceless we must take with us. I have in my possession here the singlemost valuable magical tome in existence. To lose its knowledge would be a tragedy for the entire human race.”
It went against his better judgment, but Sullivan let go long enough for the Coordinator to pick up a large book off of his desk. If he’d so much as made a move for a drawer that could conceal a gun, he’d have gotten himself Spiked to the roof. “Give me that.” Sullivan snatched the book away. Flipping through the pages, he didn’t recognize the language, but it was absolutely filled with complicated spells. They looked legit. “My God.”
“I knew you would understand. If you didn’t have such a reputation for stubbornness, you are exactly the kind of man that I would have approached concerning my grand vision.”
Vision? Sullivan snorted. Just like the visionaries of the Imperium, the Kaiser, the Soviets, Carr’s vision was just another group of assholes wanting to control everybody else. Sullivan was sick and tired of visionaries. “Shut up.”
Toru had moved to the wall of weapons and picked out a long Japanese sword. He set the 1919 down long enough to draw it from its black scabbard. It was a foot longer than the other Iron Guard swords that Sullivan had seen. “Magnificent.”
“And very valuable. That nodachi is said to have belonged to Sasaki Kojiro,” Carr said. “It was restored and given to me as a gift by Chairman Tokugawa personally.”
That seemed to surprise the Iron Guard. “One of my father’s blades? This is no accident.” Toru had to blink away tears of emotion. He smiled as he slid the blade back into the sheath. “Even now he guides my steps.”
“Well…” Carr had been ambassador. Of course he had souvenirs. It was obvious from the walls that he loved them. The big sword just seemed like a coincidence to Sullivan, but he’d actually talked to the dead man in question on the spirit phone. Who was he to judge things like signs of approval from beyond the grave? “Good, I suppose.”