Hard Magic by Larry Correia Page B

France to not butcher everything. But they ain’t French as far as I can tell. That’s just what they call themselves. I don’t know who they are, real secret bunch, but they seem to know everybody, and their money is green and there’s lots of it. I think they’re some sort of crew, but they’re connected, big time.”
    “What did they want with Delilah?”
    “Beats me. The one I talked to said they were on the same side and wanted to protect her. Delilah was hiding out up north. The law’s been hunting her since she killed those lugs that went after her.”
    The Chicago agents had been told the five mutilated corpses had belonged to innocent victims of her rampage. That had never sounded like Delilah’s style. “Who were they?”
    Torrio looked at Sullivan like he was thick. He licked his teeth. “You got no idea what you’re getting into, do you?”
    “You know us Heavies are dumb, Lenny. Humor me.”
    “They were men you don’t want to cross, Sullivan. When they missed her, they stuck the law on her. Nobody messes with them . Not the feds, not the mob, not the army . They’re bad news. That’s all I’m saying.” He thumped his glass back down and stood. “You need to get out of here, and stay out of this if you know what’s good for you.”
    Sullivan stayed seated. The couch was comfy. “So . . . you told this Grimnoir bunch which blimp Delilah would be on. Was that before or after you told the Bureau of Investigation?” Lenny’s face slipped for a second as he said that, and that second told Sullivan he had called it right.
    Torrio composed himself, playing offended. “You calling me a snitch?”
    “The BI prefers the term informant ,” Sullivan smiled. “How much was the reward on that? Here you are, giving me lip about working for the Man . . . At least I’m honest about it. I like to pick one side and stick to it. But you . . . you were always good at playing all the sides.”
    “Get out of my club.” Torrio’s robe whipped dramatically as he pointed at the stairs.
    Sullivan stood. “See you ’round, Lenny.”
    ***
    Lenny Torrio waited until Sullivan had picked up his piece and was escorted out before summoning his imp. The spindly little creature crawled out of the shadows under the couch and clambered onto the table. Half monkey, half reptile, its bat face opened in a hideous grin of jagged black teeth as it waited for the evening’s orders.
    “Follow him,” Lenny ordered. “I want to know where he sleeps.”
    The imp shrieked, leapt from the table and scurried up the bricks and out the nearest barely-open window. Spreading leathery wings, it disappeared into the night. Lenny poured himself another shot as his guest inevitably joined him. The Oriental had been waiting patiently in the darkened recesses of the balcony. The man made Lenny uncomfortable because he just stood there, like he was at attention or something. “What?”
    “Will this man be an issue?” His English was perfect.
    Jake Sullivan was probably the stubbornest, most single-minded, unwavering, bravest, and therefore dumbest son of a bitch Lenny had ever met. “Probably. He was asking about your outfit, about those men the Brute girl killed.”
    “What does he know?”
    “Not much. He hadn’t even heard of the Grimnoir.”
    The man nodded. “So . . . You told him then?” There was a thinly veiled threat in the words.
    “Not about you people, of course,” Lenny sputtered. “I’m not stupid. Look, if I had known you wanted Delilah, I would have turned her over to you, and not them. That wasn’t my fault. I’ve got my sources looking for these Grimnoir people and the other two men you want, and as soon as I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know. Your boss can take that to the bank.”
    The Japanese man raised a single eyebrow. “The Chairman will be pleased to hear that, and you will be exceedingly well paid for your services. By the way . . .” He reached into his suit and removed a heavy