by T S Paul
“You’re who?” The agent at the main desk squinted at my credentials.
“Magical Division head, Jack Dalton. I need to call Washington and requisition from you. There are supposed to be instructions associated with my visits,” I replied.
The agent stared down at his desk, “Uh...”
“You have a supervisor?” I asked.
The man behind the desk grabbed his phone and pressing a button. “A moment.”
I glanced around the entryway as I waited. There were two burly looking guards next to the elevator giving me the evil eye. Smiling, I gave them a wave. Neither of them responded. A large placard on one wall listed the offices and who was where. Behind me was the obligatory Director Hoover portrait alongside that of President Long. It made me remember his campaign.
They called him the ‘Kingfish.’ He’d been governor of Louisiana since the 1920s and had tried for the presidency at least once previously, but not during the Demon War. His actions using the Louisiana National Guard brought him national attention, securing his place in history and as a candidate.
The Demon hole in Conception, California opened suddenly exposing America to the Demon threat being battled in Europe. Large swaths of southern California had already been consumed before the first troops arrived on scene. Governor Long had marshaled his forces and recruited large groups of Weres from the three reservations in his state. Using the railroad system, he was able to get both his and the Texas Army National Guard groups to California in time to save some of San Diego from the Horde. Americans value audaciousness. Some of his more extravagant policies were shut down by Congress, but since he gave me my job, I was grateful.
“Agent Dalton?” The new voice brought my attention back to the present. A new man stood behind the desk.
“Yes…” I trailed off as I felt the presence of the two guards on either side of me.
“I’m not sure where you found these credentials, but they are obvious fakes. There is no Magical Division of the FBI. Boys?” He motioned to the two guards who each grabbed my arms. “They’re going to escort you to holding until the local police arrive.”
A large hand gripped the back of my neck. “You aren’t going to cause us any trouble now.”
Without explaining any of the charges, searching me, or even allowing me to see a supervisor they dragged me off toward the elevators. Looking over my shoulder, I could see the agent behind the counter smirking at me. “Anyway, we can discuss this, boys?”
“No.” The one to my left replied.
I first looked at him then the other one on the right carefully assessing them. Both were big and dumb looking. Director Hoover was trying to change how people looked at the FBI, but these two were either holdover from the old way or bully boys explicitly hired for this sort of thing. I decided to call them Thug One and Thug Two. Either way, I needed to get away from them.
There were three elevators, and we entered the middle one. Unlike the newer office buildings, this one still had the manual controls in it. The shiny brass box consisted of several switches and a lever. The building looked to have four floors counting the basement.
Pressing the lower button, Thug One gripped the lever to lower the elevator. The doors began to close slowly, and he let go of my arm.
“Before we start, does anyone want to get off?” I asked.
Thug Two looked over at me and replied, “Huh?”
Rapidly, I kicked him in the knee, followed up with a sharp jab to his kidneys. The larger man went down with a gasp as his knee gave way. My punch just added to the amount of pain he was feeling. The hand on my arm slipped off. Spinning quickly, I kicked Thug One in the privates. It wasn’t a fair move, but this wasn’t a fair fight.
They hadn’t bothered to search me, so my guns and other things were still intact. Pulling one of my revolvers, I pistol whipped Thug One as he tried to stand. Thug Two was still gasping on the floor of the elevator.
“Nobody ever listens,” I muttered as I pulled out a pair of handcuffs. I locked one to the elevator railing, the other to Thug One. “These are designed for Weres. I would advise you not to try to break them.”
“Bastard!” Thug Two tried to stand while reaching out toward me with a meaty hand.
I kicked him in the ribs and pistol-whipped him as well. The FBI teaches judo and karate to its agents. The Were Pack I grew up with teaches survival. Fight dirty if you have to and win. Sometimes there is no other way. Especially when it comes to survival.
Supervisory Agent John Rogan had an office on the third floor. That much I remembered from the list on the wall. While I could escape and call Anastasia from an outside line, it wouldn’t help my credibility at all. Besides, I was interested to know if the actions being done in Rogan’s name were with his knowledge or not. I was just nosy that way.
Watching the man on the floor carefully, I pressed a new button and threw the lever. I’m not a particularly religious man, but I said a prayer to Odin. He was the God worshiped by both my stepfather and the Pack I was a part of. Every little bit helps and I really didn’t want to deal with more guards on the upper floor.
There was a slight ding followed by the elevator doors opening. I could see nothing but a wall in front of me, so I leaned out the doorway. On my left was a wall and to my right, I saw an assistant’s or secretary’s desk. The double doors behind it should lead to Rogan. I smiled to myself about the similarity to Director Hoover's office layout. Some people just wanted to look important.
“May I help you, sir?” The secretary was young, very young. She made Hoover’s assistant look ancient in comparison. There was a puzzled expression on her face. At one point she looked past me toward the elevators.
“Is Agent Rogan available?” I asked.
“He’s in a meeting, but I can let him know you’re here Agent…” She trailed off and looked at me expectantly.
My credentials were still downstairs with the man at the desk. So, I winged it. “Dalton. Jack Dalton. Tell him I’m the Director of the Magical Division.”
Still puzzled, the young woman reached for the phone.
“Can you ask him in person? Without calling?” I asked.
“That’s just silly. It’s easier to call.” She picked up the receiver and started to press a button.
Sighing, I drew my guns and pointed them at her. “Just ask him to come out here. No mention of these or me please.”
The woman actually squealed as her eyes widened. “Don’t kill me. I only slept with him to keep my job.”
Smiling I shook my head. “Nothing to do with you. Just ask him to come out here, please? I won’t hurt you.”
She brought the receiver up to her ear and pressed the button. If she tried to trick me and send more guards, I would deal with them. “John, sorry to bother you when you’re sleeping but there is an Agent Dalton that says he needs to speak to you urgently.”
I watched as the young woman nodded and replied. “Yes. Yes. Yes, but…”
She shook her head and became more forceful. “John, he says it’s a matter of life and death.” There was a pause. “Fine. I’ll tell him.”
Hanging up the phone, she looked at me. “That man only cares about himself, but he’s on his way out.”
Setting myself up in the corner behind the doors and across from the secretary I drew my other gun and waited. My wait wasn’t very long.
“Lavina, what in the hell is so important that you would pull me away from my call with the mayor!” The man I assumed was Rogan, slammed open the door and stood before her.
Lavina smiled at him and nodded toward me. Supervisor Rogan goggled at her.
“Speak up! Who’s out here?” He demanded.
I sighed. “She means me, dummy.”
“Who said that?” Rogan turned and froze at the sight of me and my guns.
“That would be me, actually. My name is Special Agent in Charge Jack Dalton. Does my name ring a bell?” I asked him.
“You will rot in jail for this
! How dare you break into the FBI of all places and hold me up at gunpoint! Criminals will shudder in fear when they hear of your fate in the future. When my men get finished with you, they will …” Rogan trailed off as I stepped forward.
“Do you recognize my name?” I asked again.
Rogan made a face at me. “Why? Did I lock up your mother or something?”
“No. Your bully boys tried to rough me up and drag me downstairs. Funny how your office here is so cooperative with other parts of the FBI,” I explained.
“Who are you again?” Rogan asked.
“Jack Dalton, Director of the Magical Division,” I smiled at him.
Rogan smirked, “That group doesn’t exist! It’s a fairy tale.”
“I beg to differ. Lavina, can you dial a number for me?” I looked past Rogan to the young secretary watching us.
“Certainly, Agent Dalton.” Lavina picked up the phone.
Supervisor Rogan turned around and glared at her. “You will not! Dial that phone, and you’re fired!”
Her hand poised above the phone, Lavina remarked, “He’s got the guns.”
I smiled and recited a number to her. “Thank you, Lavina. Dial that number and ask for Anastasia.”
Addressing Rogan, I explained, “Regardless what you may believe or what your bully boys downstairs think, I am with the FBI. I report to Director Hoover.”
Lavina said a few words into the phone and Ana’s name. I watched as her eyes widened just a bit. She sat up a bit straighter and explained who she was and better still where she was.
“She wants you, Agent Dalton.” Lavina addressed me.
“Can you put it on speaker phone?” I asked.
“Of course.” She pressed a button and turned the small gray device toward us.
“Ana? I’m in a bit of a pickle here,” I started to explain to her.
“If you mean the report you were supposed to send me half a day ago then yes. Or do you mean something else?” The Vampire asked.
“I’m in Boston at our offices here. There was a slight problem when I tried to speak to the supervisor and to use the phone,” I replied.
“They arrested me claiming that there was no Magical Division and that I was a fraud.”
There was a moment of silence on the speaker. Supervisor Rogan opened his mouth, but I waved him away by pointing both my 1911s at him.
“Did you explain and show your credentials?” She asked.
“I did. Two big bully boys grabbed me and were going to correct my attitude while the local police were called,” I paused for a moment. “Currently I have Director Rogan here under my guns. Want me to shoot him?”
There was the sound of what sounded like laughter. “Did you kill anyone?”
“Not yet. The boys are still in the elevator, but it won’t be too long before someone finds them. This place appears to be a snake pit. I’m starting to think I need to kill the head snake,” I explained.
“Can he speak?” Ana asked.
I waved my guns at the man in front of me. “Sure. Go ahead, Rogan.”
“I don’t know who you are, but this man is a maniac! He’s assaulted me in my own office. I demand that you have him arrested,” Rogan began to shout.
Anastasia listened to his ranting for several minutes and then shut him down. “Supervisor Rogan, shut up!”
Rogan stopped speaking for just a moment and stared at the speakerphone. “Who are you to speak to me like that?”
“J Edgar Hoover’s personal assistant,” Anastasia replied.
“The Vampire?” Rogan asked.
“Yes. Jack is who he says he is. I know for a fact that memos went out explaining his position and needs. Why is your office not complying?” Anastasia asked.
Supervisor Rogan snorted. “Magical Division, ridiculous. My boss told me to ignore that drivel. We should have deported the lot of you in 1914 and been done with you.”
“Your boss? Director Hoover is over all branches of the FBI. If you’re working for someone else, then I know we have to replace you,” Ana replied.
“Not the GID you don’t. We intend to stop this idiocy this very moment.” Supervisor Rogan stepped towards the desk and reached for the emergency button.
Lavina Taylor had been listening to the entire conversation with fascination. She knew that the man she worked for wasn’t acting true to the values of the FBI because she’d studied the training materials herself to better understand the men around her. Just because Lavina was young and blond didn’t make her stupid. When she saw the hand coming right for her and the button she reacted.
“I don’t think so!” Lavina batted Rogan’s hand away and slammed his arm with the only thing within reach to her, a stapler.
“You bitch!” Rogan howled in pain. The heavy Swingline stapler was like a set of brass knuckles and increased Lavina’s swing threefold.
I could hear the crack of bone as the mere slip of a girl broke her boss’s arm.
Rogan staggered to one side clutching his arm cursing both his secretary and me.
“Jack! What just happened?” Anastasia asked.
“Rogan was about to hit the emergency button, and his secretary popped him one. I think she broke his arm,” I explained.
“Sounds like my kind of woman. I’m sending orders to the US Marshal Service as we speak to take Supervisor Rogan into custody. I need you to control the situation a bit longer, Jack. Something is fishy about this entire incident,” Anastasia commented.
“What’s the GID?” I asked her.
“It stands for General Intelligence Division, and it’s supposed to be defunct. The Director himself dissolved it in 1920, just a bit before my time with the Bureau. The GID was at the forefront of government actions during the Were scare of 1919. They were the ones that established the reservations and placed the Weres in them. The Thompson raids were their claim to fame as well. The Director is going to be upset by this. Whatever you do, try to keep it out of the press.”
“We are everywhere, and he has no idea that we even exist. The hammer will rise, and all will be swept away…” Rogan started to shout at the top of his lungs. Then I hit him.
Whack!
“Jack?” Anastasia asked.
“Sorry, he had it coming.” I bent down checking his pulse. “It’s easier this way.”
Anastasia groaned. “Did you ever think that maybe he was telling us stuff we can use against him?”
I looked down at the unconscious man and shook my head. “No.”
“Men. Give me all the details. Describe your entire time in that office.” Anastasia demanded of me.
Leaning against the edge of the desk I filled her in on all the boring stuff including kicking the ass of the goons in the elevator. “You know I should probably check up on those two.”
Taking a few steps forward I looked at the elevator I came up in. The door was closed.
“The cat might be out of the bag, boss,” I then explained why to her.
“Just guard the floor. The Marshals shouldn’t take too much time,” Ana remarked.
An idea came to me as I watched the doors, “Boss? Is there any way we can hire Lavinia here away from this location? She’s innocent of the whole thing.”
“Is she still here?” Anastasia asked.
Lavina spoke up, “Yes, Ma’am. I’m still here.”
The two women started to talk as I moved to a position I could watch both Rogan and the elevators.
True to her word, I didn’t have to wait all that long for relief as the Marshals took charge less than an hour later. My credentials were found at the front desk in the trash can.
Anastasia got me out of there pretty quick too. Something about not tarnishing my name as well. Whoever these GID guys were, they faded into the woodwork pretty fast. All information about them dried up leaving the Marshals puzzled.
“Go south toward New Jersey. There’s been several sea monster sightings as well as a few disappearances. Chasing a threat should keep you b
usy and out of the Director’s hair for a while,” Anastasia explained as she gave me my assignment.
Which is why I was now on the way towards the Jersey shore and all its surrounding chaos.
The FBI had received reports of monster sightings by the Navy and others, but no specific details were given. Any sightings of creatures were crazy because this is December and while it’s not snowing presently it’s unbelievably cold. At this time of the year, everything usually is quiet which made me wonder, why now? Why not during the height of summer tourist season when food is more plentiful?
Sandy Hook was my first stop. The first recorded sighting of a sea monster in America took place there in 1887. I figured if I was hunting the things I should stop there at least.
“You one of those newfangled fish revenuers?” The lone fisherman standing on the pier stared up at me.
The puzzled look on my face should have screamed ‘No,’ but I answered him, anyway. “I’m with the FBI looking for sea monsters.”
When the old guy stopped laughing, he slapped the rail in front of him a couple of time. “Son, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time. None of those around here, not lately that is. Town’s got a museum of sorts for the sighting fifty years or so ago.”
I pursed my lips and stared at him. He was dressed in an old-fashioned slicker with large rubber boots. Sitting on a chair, he kept a bucket huddled between his legs partially covered by a blanket. “Why do you have revenuers here?”
The man gave me a shrewd look then shook his head, “If you were one I guess you’d have fined me by now. It’s a new law. This whole area’s been crawling with them lately. They’re building some sort of new science laboratory out on the point that’s attracting them to here. You can’t toss your line out without them swooping down asking for a license or some stuff. That’s why I’m out here in this cold today. Best time to avoid them.”
“Ah. OK. Not really my branch of government. I just chase down monsters. Any idea where I might find one?” I asked.
