Gods of Chicago: Omnibus Edition by AJ Sikes Page B

understand why. We can only hope his surviving daughter, Emma Farnsworth, finds solace in her time of sorrow.
    Brand reached to shut the mic off and then stopped. He saw the crime scene photo from yesterday in his mind. He saw the men and women who slogged it out in the factories every single day, just to make sure they could pay their rent, or the protection money, or the ransom. People who worked for chump change and used it up in the speaks that were owned by the same guy who prevented anyone from earning a decent wage. After a long drag on his smoke, Brand stabbed it out and kept talking.
    It remains to be seen whether or not Frank Nitti’s visit to Farnsworth Wind and Water, which this reporter witnessed yesterday afternoon, is related to Mr. Farnsworth’s suicide. If anything is revealed about Josiah Farnsworth’s possible involvement with The Outfit, the Daily Record is committed to bringing you the truth about what happens in your city.
    Stay tuned, Chicago. And stay in touch.
    Chief would harsh him out for that, but Brand had taken enough from the world in the past twenty-four hours. The story was there, and he would follow it to its end somehow. The weight of the past day and night caught up to him as he stared at the radiophone, waiting for it ring. After fifteen minutes of nothing but the sound of wind outside the cabin windows, Brand scribbled a note and left it in the pilot’s chair. Then he staggered aft, stopping in the washroom to splash some water on his face before going back to his bunk.
    Sleep came quickly, and Brand felt like it left just as fast. He jolted awake to the ringing of the radiophone by his head. Brand looked at his watch, but his weary eyes couldn’t make out the time. He grabbed the horn out of its cradle and grunted into the tube in the wall, ready to catch hell for his last broadcast. It wasn’t Chief though.
    “Boss! You gotta get up here. Capone was arrested and they just shot the mayor.”
    When Brand got into the cabin, Archie had the Vigilance over a municipal mooring deck. Fading light outside said it was late afternoon with a snowstorm blowing its way into the city. Flurries had piled up in drifts on the deck, and clouds lowered over the horizon like a falling curtain.
    “Where are we?”
    “Few blocks from an old machine shop. That’s where I saw the shooter’s car pull up.”
    “Coppers?”
    “They missed out. Whoever’s driving the car, he knows the streets like I know the sky. I had us overhead when it went down. Saw their car. Long sedan, like Nitti was driving at Farnsworth’s yesterday.”
    “What happened with Capone; when’d it go down?”
    “Like the Mayor said last night. He was gunning for Capone and his crew. They got him coming out of a warehouse full of hooch. Governor’s boys were there, too. Lots of them.”
    “Why didn’t you wake me up? We should have been on that story.”
    “I would’ve, boss, but sure enough the Governor’s boys would have kept us off, hey?”
    Archie was right. Except for the times when Brand had got there first, like on Valentine’s Day, a G-man showing up meant that whatever story might have been there ended up being someplace else. And any story you did get from them wouldn’t be worth printing on a three-dollar bill.
    “Who told you to cover the Mayor’s office?”
    “Nobody. Got your note and figured I’d just circle around the hot spots like usual. Then I heard on the wire about Capone and I had us just a few blocks over. I got us overhead when the Mayor’s on the steps giving his speech about Capone. He’s talking big when this car comes up and bang bang bang and down he goes.”
    Brand shrugged into his jacket. He pulled on his overcoat and hat as Archie dropped down to mooring level and radioed the gearboxes on the deck. The city’s automatons ratcheted the cables into place and radioed back that the ship was secured.
    “Okay, boss. We’re set.”
    Brand opened the cabin door and dropped the