“Very nice,” Howard allowed.
“The original XM 107 was designed for use by the Army, particularly the Joint Special Operations Forces, and the Explosive Ordnance Disposal teams. And, theoretically, the Infantry, though the groundpounders didn’t get too many copies. SOF uses ‘em against soft or semi-hard targets out to seventeen hundred meters, and EOD uses’em to blow up unexploded ordnance from a long way outside proximity fuse range.”
“Like I said, a nice toy. How much?”
“These things are like hen’s teeth, sir. The waiting list is a mile long, and how can you put a price on this kind of quality?” He stroked the barrel with one hand. “There are only two of them exactly like this in all the world.”
“Let’s try, shall we? How much?”
“Well, with our discount, a hair over five thousand dollars each.”
“That actually sounds pretty reasonable.” Then, knowing Julio for all the years he’d known him, he said, “A ‘hair over’ you said. How thick a hair we talking about?”
“Call it three thousand and change,” Julio said. He grinned.
“What? For eight thousand dollars, this beast had better dance and whistle ‘Dixie,’ Lieutenant!”
“Well, I wouldn’t know about that, sir. But EDM Arms guarantees one-minute-of-angle accuracy at a thousand meters right out of the box.”
Howard raised his eyebrows at that. “One MOA? Guaranteed?”
“Just as you see it. I thought that would get your attention. But that’s only to keep the lawyers happy. EDM Arms has got
Howard looked at the weapon again. “Good Lord. That’s a tack-driver.”
“Yes, sir. And Bowens, our newly recruited ex-Army shooter, has been doing just that with this very piece, starting yesterday. Talking about a pie-plate-sized group from a mile away. He didn’t want to let me take it long enough to show it to you.”
Howard grinned.
“So, come next month, Net Force’s little piece of the National Guard is going to shoot the living asses off the Navy, the Marines,
“If one of them doesn’t get his hands on the other one,” Howard said.
Julio grinned real big.
Howard stared at him. “You didn’t.”
“Well, sir, yes, sir, I did. If something broke on this here weapon — highly unlikely, I know, given the fine, fine quality, but if something
Howard shook his head. “I’ll have to beat the budget to cover this.”
“Not the way I figure it. We do it right, we can make our costs on side bets. I can get three to one against us, easy. I wouldn’t be surprised to even make a small profit.”
They both grinned at that.
“Anyway, I thought you might like to take it to the outdoor range and put a few through it. That is, if you aren’t too busy here.” He looked around.
“You missed your calling, Lieutenant. You should have been a comedian.”
“Yes, sir, I believe I could have sparkled in such a profession.”
Howard looked at the weapon. Why not? He didn’t have anything better to do.
“You coming along?”
“No, sir, I have diaper duty, starting in—” he looked at his watch “—forty-six minutes. Best I not be late.”
Howard chuckled. “No, I understand. It has been a while since I had such duty myself, but one cannot stress the importance of it enough.”
“If one’s wife is Lieutenant Joanna Winthrop Fernandez, one can sure as hell stress it high, wide, and repeatedly,” Julio said. “You want me to show you how to break it down? Where the cartridges go?”
“I believe I can manage on my own, thank you.”
“Have fun.”
“Oh, you, too.”
“Yeah, right.”
Howard looked at the rifle after Julio was gone. Well, why not? He was the commander of Net Force’s military, he ought to know how the hardware worked, right? It was training. He could justify that,
Besides, blowing holes in a target three-quarters of a mile away sure beat sitting here doing zip.
Jay Gridley walked along the trail, cutting sign. This was an exercise Saji had taught him when he’d been recovering from his electronically induced stroke, how to track somebody. A bent twig here, a blade of grass lying there, the signs were there if you knew how to look.
In the real world, he was backtracking e-sig, net and phone and globeSat connections, but here, he was after a bad man on foot, Hans, a notorious drug seller.
It was hot, and Jay paused to take a swig of tepid water from his canteen, the fabric of which was wet to allow some small cooling from evaporation. He thought that was a nice touch, even though he wasn’t sharing the scenario with anybody. Those little things counted. Anybody could plug off-the-shelf view- or feelware into their computer and walk through VR; a pro had higher standards.
He took off his broad-brimmed planter’s hat, wiped his sweaty forehead with a red bandanna, replaced the hat, and stuck the handkerchief back into his pocket.
There, just ahead, he saw something. Or rather, he
Jay kept walking. Ahead and in a little declivity was a stand of cottonwood trees and what looked like willow. Water, a pond, or an underground stream come up to the surface, he figured. He could almost smell the moisture.
Sure enough, there was a small stream, maybe as wide as Jay was tall, clear water bubbling over a rocky bottom. The stream wound away, and Jay stepped into the water and started to follow it. A man looking to hide his tracks would use such cover, probably staying with it until he found a rocky enough spot to exit where he wouldn’t leave footprints.
Jay enjoyed the feel of the water around his ankles as he moved slowly along. Half a mile ahead, he paused. There, to the right, were six or eight big rocks leading to a patch of gravel. That’s where he’d leave the water, if he wanted to get back on his previous heading.
It took him more than a hundred yards before he spotted something. Another flat patch of dirt, too smooth. There were no wind riffle marks, no raindrop patterns, none of the natural weathering signs that ought to be there. Jay grinned. Bad man Hans had been here; he was sure of it.
In the distance, Jay saw a small village. That it had a Germanic look to it didn’t really fit the Texas panhandle, but it was okay to mix scenario now and then. It kept you from getting into a rut.
He’d bet diamonds against dog doo that Hans was in that village, smug in his belief that nobody could track him there.
Why didn’t these fools ever learn they couldn’t screw with Lonesome Jay Gridley? Must be some kind of genetic defect that ran in bad guys.
He picked up his pace a little. He didn’t need to worry about the signs now, he knew where Hans was. All he had to do was go and identify him. Once he was sure of that, the game would be over.
30
Toni felt terrific. She and Alex had a great night together, and when she awakened this morning, she’d been
