Other times, in close-quarter situations—say, when you are effectively invisible and standing directly in front of your mark, amused by the fact that he is wielding a very capable-looking assault rifle that fires only light—a big-bore, frangible round is very much in order: tightly packed metal powder bound with wax and designed specifically for breaching things like haptic suits and chest cavities without the risk of exiting through the back and penetrating a thin plywood wall.
A third classic gas gun configuration is what is known in the business as the micro-meteor: an incredibly tiny, very high-velocity, extremely hot projectile that pierces the heart or the brain so quickly that it is usually mistaken for a headache or indigestion until the triggerman is enjoying a scone and a cup of tea three blocks away. Later, when you break into the chap’s flat to leave your tag, you can see that he died relatively peacefully with a wet washcloth across his forehead and prescription painkillers spilling from a bottle that slipped from his stiff fingers. When coroners can’t find any blood and have to use a digital caliper to measure cauterized entrance and exit wounds of less than a millimeter in diameter, nobody even bothers looking for the slug.
There are those in Ranveer’s business who swear by the virtues of minimalism—who insist that simplicity is the ultimate sophistication. But Ranveer suspects that they are merely simpletons who tragically lack imagination. By decoupling targeting, payload, propulsion, and ignition, the gas gun becomes not just a weapon, but an implement for challenging and provocative artistic expression.
The model Ranveer commissioned from a contact in Germany accepts six different muzzles of six different bores. The propellant is a cartridge of hydrogen gas, which is used to fill a chamber to the desired pressure and is then ignited by a spark produced by a small rechargeable battery. Ammunition can be anything from a rubber pellet to a chunk of depleted uranium to buckshot to a needle laced with a suitably exotic and nasty neurotoxin. Need a long-range laser sight? Click. Need a military-grade, infrared scope for painting warm targets through walls? Click. How about depth-sensing radar combined with a real-time, false-color visual to help pinpoint weak seams in body armor? Click and click. All depends on the job.
Ranveer takes the hydrogen cartridge assembly into the master bathroom and begins attaching the silicone hose to the sink. Emirates will allow disassembled gas-powered weapons in the belly of a plane without asking questions, but only if the hydrogen cartridges are empty. That means one of the first things he is tasked with upon reaching a new destination is procuring some hydrogen, and the easiest place to find hydrogen is in water. Once the feeder tube is secured, Ranveer opens the faucet and, satisfied that there are no leaks, selects the right adapter and plugs the rig into the wall. Over the next two hours, the device will use electrolysis to dissociate the hydrogen and oxygen atoms and fill the two docked cartridges with enough gas to get him into and out of just about any conceivable situation.
The next item unpacked and strategically positioned for quick access is what appears to be a simple sheathed blade but, like everything Ranveer covets, is much more than it seems. The knowledge to forge Damascus steel is thought to have been lost in the eighteenth century, but you simply need to know where to look. With the right contacts in India or Sri Lanka, it is possible to purchase a beautifully banded and mottled weapon of between 5 and 180 centimeters in length that converges along a nanometer-scale surface and is strong enough to peel the edge off most other blades like slicing the wax off a brandy bottle’s seal. It’s true that in an age of cheap synthetic diamonds and prolific laser technology, it is not technically the most menacing hand-to-hand, close-quarter implement one can buy, but Ranveer has a soft spot for tradition.
His leather-bound pocket apothecary goes into the room’s safe for now. The capsules, syringes, solutions, aerosols, gels, and lozenges within can produce effects either quick and painless or slow and excruciating. Some leave no trace at all, while others leave a chemical calling card behind designed to speak posthumous volumes. There’s even a putty-like substance that some of Ranveer’s colleagues are particularly fond of; when mixed with enzymes in human saliva, it rapidly expands and congeals, simultaneously silencing a victim and obstructing both the nasal and oral airways, usually inducing a state wherein one becomes surprisingly receptive to any final admonishments requested by a client—a custom Ranveer suspects was made popular by gangster movies, and serves no real purpose in his exceedingly pragmatic mind.
But even with all of these toys to choose from, he is still baffled. Nothing immediately presents itself as the obvious solution to the specific problem at hand. He decides to let his subconscious turn the enigma over for the next several hours while he indulges in the many amenities offered by the hotel, fully confident that a little pampering is just the thing to reveal the right approach to taking out a target who, according to his information, is only nine months old.
8
HOME-FIELD ADVANTAGE
NAIROBI, LONDON, AND Beijing. South Africa, Moscow, and Caracas. This guy could host his own travel show, Quinn thinks. Experience the world through the scope of one of the world’s most elite and creative assassins.
She did what she could from her cube in Langley. The Kremlin is pretty cagey about the kinds of gadgets they
