“He doesn’t,” Cowley chimed in. “Miss Hammer’s a-”
“Freelance consultant,” she said. “I don’t work for the government. I take care of odd jobs. I’m assuming you’re not offended by a woman in the work force.”
“Can’t say I’ve given it much thought. The mugging?”
“Oh, nothing I couldn’t handle, but I provoked those boys on purpose. Boys like that are rabbit dogs. They see something run, they’re going to chase it. Can’t help themselves, poor things. It’s in their nature. So don’t get feeling blue for hurting them. Only way a rabbit dog learns not to chase something is to beat the chase right out of it. You did them a favor. Maybe next time they smell fear, they’ll think twice.”
Got played again. “Did you get a good show?”
“I was fairly certain it was you from the descriptions, but I needed to make sure. My clients pay me to be thorough. I learned all about your history, Sullivan. Up until you dropped off the face of the Earth last year.”
She knew quite a bit about him; he knew nothing about her, except for an impression that she was crafty, and therefore dangerous. “Why are you here?”
“I’m protecting my current employer’s interest. You knew some mobsters… Well, the mob’s got nothing on big companies when it comes to protecting what’s theirs, and we can play pretty dirty too.”
“The Bureau calls it industrial espionage,” Cowley said.
“I would never participate in anything illegal like that, Agent Cowley,” she said. Hammer was a superb liar. “Your name came up at my client’s and it became very important to find you. That’s why they called me. I tracked you down. My client had already asked a favor from the BI so they were looking too. My client suggested I work with them in order to expedite matters. So here we are.”
Sullivan had done his best to cover his tracks, and his ring was spellbound against Finders and Summoners. Whatever Hammer was, she had talent. He should probably get her card and pass it on to Francis. UBF might be able to use her, and Francis certainly loved the industrial espionage angle of the business. “Your client must be an important man.”
“Was. Passed away last year. I work for Edison General Electrical.”
Thomas Edison? Why was EGE, founded by one of the greatest supergenius Cogs of all time, interested in him?
“Have you heard of the Shelved Projects Branch?” she asked. “We’ve managed to keep it out of the papers, but it’s where we store… Well, you’ve probably never worked with a Cog before…” Actually, Sullivan had, and now considered two of them friends, but she didn’t need to know about his Grimnoir associates. “Cogs are very rare. Heck, even low-level Fixers are hard to find. What most people don’t realize is that sometimes those bursts of magical inspiration can take a Cog down some very strange paths. Shelved Projects is where EGE stored those experiments. Some of them are downright unnerving.”
“What’s this got to do with me?”
Hammer nearly left some of the Ford’s paint on the bumper of a truck that hadn’t heard the sirens. The driver honked and shook his fist at them. “It’ll be easier to explain when we get there.”
Menlo Park, New Jersey
They arrived in one piece, though there had been a few close shaves. Hammer drove like an unhinged maniac. The Hyperion was said to be the fastest factory car ever produced. Safety advocates had declared that the Cogs who had designed such an infernal machine must surely have been driven mad with a desire to kill other motorists. After this particular ride, Sullivan was inclined to agree. Hammer had decided that Cowley’s police escort had been too slow, and had zipped past them once they got out of the city. It was the fastest that Sullivan had ever ridden in an automobile, and that was saying something, since there was an inch of snow on the ground.
There was a faded ege sign and a No Trespassing warning on the fence of the industrial park. “This is the place,” Hammer said as they coasted through an open gate and came to a stop in front of a rather plain warehouse.
“Where’d you learn to drive like that?” Sullivan asked.
“Riding horses. Same fundamental principles.”
“No. No, they’re not,” Cowley said, a little green around the edges and glad to be alive. “I can assure you.”
“Sure. Give it the spurs when you want it to go faster; close your eyes and hang on for dear life when you need to stop in a hurry… same thing.” She shoved her door open. “Come on.”
Sullivan shrugged and followed the strange woman into the night.
The warehouse was bland and innocuous. For something that was supposed to be housing a bunch of wild Cog inventions, it didn’t look like much. Maybe that was the best protection of all. There were a lot of automobiles parked under a nearby cover. The place was busy tonight.
There were two men in thick coats waiting at the entrance and both had new Pedersen auto-rifles slung over their shoulders. Their hard faces told him that they certainly weren’t regular security guards. Cowley stopped. “This is as far as I go. I’m not cleared for this particular conversation… And believe me, I’m glad about it.” He held out his hand and Sullivan shook it. “Good luck, Jake.” The agent turned and walked away like a man who was very glad to be going.
That was ominous. The guards nodded at Hammer as she passed and gave Sullivan the once-over. “This the guy, Hammer?” one guard asked.
“That he is, Arthur.”
“Thank goodness. Every time that thing rings, it scares the piss out of me.” Arthur shivered. “I’m telling you, it’s the work of the devil.”
The other guard spoke. “Unnatural, I say. Mr. Edison should have burned the evil thing when he had the chance.”
Hammer took a small automatic out of her coat and handed it to Arthur. “You packing, Mr. Sullivan?” she asked.
“Of course,” Sullivan said.
“You’ll have to leave it here. Company policy,” Arthur said.
“Your policy stinks.”
“Trust me, buddy. It’s for your own safety. There are some things in Shelved Projects… Well, let’s just say that you don’t want to have any big metallic objects on you in case the alarm goes off. Some of our other guests disagreed, too, only they had fancy badges that told me to mind my own business.”
“They’re going to feel mighty stupid if the alarm goes off,” Hammer stated.
“That’s what I told them, but what do I know? I just work here. I’m not a top government man.” Arthur snorted. “I promise I’m not just yanking your chain. It really is for your safety.”
Sullivan pulled out the enchanted M1921. 45 that Browning had given him and passed it over. “Careful. It ain’t loaded with sofa pillows.”
Arthur put the pistols in a lockbox next to the door and closed it. “Well, come on in.” Arthur opened the door for them. “You don’t want to keep Satan waiting.”
They entered the dark warehouse. The door closed behind them and locked. “What was that about?” Sullivan asked.
“You believe in ghosts, Sullivan?”
“I don’t rightly know.”
She groped around on the wall until she found a switch. “Well, apparently they believe in you.”
“You’re making me nervous.”
“Good. Nervous is healthy. Nervous keeps you alive,” Hammer said. The lights came on, revealing a wide space, filled with shelves covered in dust and cobwebs. “This way. We keep it hidden downstairs. Safer that way.”
“I’m not moving another foot until you tell me what’s going on.”
She folded her arms. “Why, Mr. Sullivan, we both know that’s not what’s going to happen. You’re an intensely curious man. You try to hide it. You may act like a palooka, but you just can’t help yourself. You’ve got a dying need to know what’s going on, so you’re not fooling anyone. Now that we’ve lost our Bureau chaperone, I can give you the straight scoop.” Hammer didn’t even wait for his response before she started walking across the warehouse.