Free Spellbound by Larry Correia

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