fifteen or twenty feet, if you were lucky.
But he'd only get one shot and then he'd have to reload, and as John
Howard and Julio Fernandez had pointed out to him, the fastest taser
reloader in the world could not outpace a handgun with multiple rounds.
Net Force computer and management people were supposed to be desk
jockeys, they didn't need guns, that's what the military arm was for.
If he got out of this alive, Michaels planned to start carrying a real
gun.
Yeah. Unfortunately, the military arm was not here, he didn't have a
real gun, and a taser was what he did have.
So--who to shoot?--assuming he could get close enough to shoot either
one of them?
He couldn't hear what they were saying to each other, but he was able
to hear what the shot gunner said next, because he said it loudly:
'Bubba!'
A shaven-headed bodybuilder in dark camo approached the truck from the
passenger side, a long-barreled pistol in his hands. He was careful
not to come in straight on,
but angled slightly from the back. Good move--that would keep him out
of the shot gunner line of fire if things started cooking.
Nothing like another little complication to make his life harder.
Even if he'd had an assault rifle instead of the taser, Michaels didn't
like those odds. And he didn't know who these new players were--in
theory, they might even be on his side.
Maybe he should wait a second and see what happened before he stood up
and commanded everybody to drop their weapons. Maybe a couple of
seconds.
Ventura felt the adrenaline pop and bubble in him, heard its siren song
calling him to action. You're invincible, it said. Nobody has ever
been able to beat you. You 're the best there ever was! Kill them!
'All right,' Smith said.
'Here is how it is gonna go.
You give me whatever it was you came here to collect.
Then you can be on your way, your life for the data. I figure that's
an even trade. If anything that looks like a weapon comes out of your
pocket, we take what we want off your body. This pump's carrying eight
rounds of number 4 buckshot. I don't have to tell you what that will
do to your face at this range.'
'No.'
Smith might not be a real general, but he had been a real soldier, and
he did have a shotgun pointed at Ventura.
Bubba, on the other side of the truck, had a handgun. But if Bubba
fired first, he would have to shoot through the glass, and his angle
might partially deflect the bullet. If Ventura ducked suddenly. Smith
would probably pull the trigger, and with any luck, the charge of BBs
would go right over his head and through the passenger window. It
would take half a second for Smith to rack the slide for a second shot,
and while a full-sized American pickup truck's door would not stop a
deer or sabot slug from a twelve-gauge, it would stop a load of number
4 buck, or most of it.
