Gods of Chicago: Omnibus Edition Read Free

over.”
    “Yeah, I would. That’s true.”
    “So what about it?”
    The tramp hesitated and his eyes flashed crimson behind the fence. He looked away, over Brand’s shoulder. Brand turned around and saw a copper heading his way. He turned back and saw the tramp backing away from the fence. He lifted his feet to the pedals on his bicycle and the air around him shook and fluttered like cloth. “Got a story you’ll want to hear, Brand. But it’ll have to wait,” the tramp said. Then he reached behind him and lifted the air aside like a curtain, revealing a city skyline glittering in the night. He ducked under the drape and vanished leaving only dust and snowmelt in his wake.
    Brand reeled from the fence and spun on his heel. He got a few steps and drew up short when a man stepped out from the crowd. Brand was face to face with Detective Tom Wynes, a tall, thick-built guy in a dark suit and hat. Wynes was one of Chicago City’s finest if you only rated coppers by the hands they shook in the daylight. “You okay, Brand? Looks like you saw something you wish you hadn’t.” Brand swallowed hard, tasting bile and the burning remains of the meal he’d found in a bottle the night before.
    “Yeah, Wynes. I’m fine. Just had a pink elephant show up to say good morning.”
    Wynes pushed his lips out and gave Brand a bent grin that quickly turned into a frown. The way the copper worked his face, it was never easy to read his next play. One minute he’d be on your side and the next he’d be feeding you to the wolves. “I know how that is, Brand. Probably your luck the G-men showed up when they did. The word is no pictures on this one. You got any film in that thing that I should worry about confiscating?” Wynes stabbed a finger at the photo viewer hanging against Brand’s stomach. Brand put a hand over the viewscreen and shook his head.
    “Didn’t get any pictures yet. The boys who showed up first told me to step off, so I did. I’m halfway through with a pouch, and you mean to tell me I can’t even get a photo for my trouble? There goes my tobacco money.”
    “Good thing the boys waved you off, Brand. Way I hear it from the G-men, you don’t need to be seeing what’s inside. Nobody does. But hey, at least you had time to work up that little speech for me. I’m awful sorry about your tobacco. Now how about you move along.” Wynes jerked a thumb in the air and smiled his thin-lipped copper’s grin that told Brand the story was a bust. Brand shook his head and waved a hand at Wynes. The copper turned away and went back to helping with the crowd. Brand darted a glance around the street. He didn’t see any of the coppers from earlier, but he saw a lot more G-men roaming the area, stopping to talk to groups of citizens and going into every storefront along Clark Street. Brand shuffled away from the scene and headed for the nearest cab stop. Along the way he bought a new pencil from a vet on a wheeled board. The one he’d had earlier was lying on the sidewalk by the fence, snapped into three pieces by his nervous hands.

Chapter 2
    Later that afternoon, Brand sat in the cabin of his flying newsroom, the Airship Vigilance, while it bobbed on the mooring deck outside the Daily Record. He scratched a few notes about the Brauerschift hit onto the paper in front of him. He read his notes, watching his thoughts dance in confused circles, and ripped the page out of his steno pad. It disappeared into the waste chute beside his desk and he tried again. Scribble, rip, repeat. After the fourth page went down the chute he gave up and let his eyes roam the skyline out the cabin window. He couldn’t shake the image of the tramp and his rusted bicycle. Had he seen the guy before? Over there? Brand kept a bottle on board and thought about washing away the memory with a glass or two. He reached for the drawer and then remembered the three glasses he’d used to tuck himself into bed.
    He had to feed three more pages into the