(eng) Michael La Ronn - Galaxy Mavericks 05 by Solar Storm

Author:Solar Storm [Storm, Solar]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Miller couldn't walk through the white, cubicled hallways without seeing people that he knew.

He had hoped this would be a quick visit, but as the tenth person stopped him, he realized this visit was going to take him all day if he didn't take the stairs.

He climbed the stairwell to the fourteenth floor.

By the time he got there, he was panting and wishing he'd taken the elevator. He rested against the wall to catch his breath. Then he opened two gray double-doors into a shooting range.

Three people in blue police uniforms fired at white targets in the distance. Behind them, engineers stood behind them, studying the shots.

The officers unloaded, emptying their guns.

Miller’s ears rung.

The engineers spoke with the officers. Miller wondered what they were talking about. Then he saw the handcoils in the officers’ hands—they were gray, with an unfinished look to them.

Prototypes.

A female engineer lifted her goggles and waved at him. She had blonde hair tied up into a ponytail.

“Can I help you?” she asked. Her voice was frank; not unfriendly, but not as warm as Miller preferred.

Miller took off his fedora.

“I'm looking for Dawn Jackson.”

“You're looking at her,” the woman said, extending a hand.

She was no Maggie. She was short and skinny, with blue eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor. She wore a blue polo with the GALPOL logo and her last name embroidered below it. He'd met types like her before. His policy was that the shorter a person was in the force, the less you messed with them. Short guys and gals tended to dish out tall problems when you underestimated them. Miller knew if he didn't get to the point he would frustrate her. That, and she had a prototype handcoil in her hand…

“Hey, Dawn. Agent Ryan Miller.”

“You're the one in the news, right?”

“If I say you're wrong, would you believe me?”

“No,” she said, smiling. She handed her prototype to a passing engineer. “Not only would I tell you that you were wrong, I'd want to know why you wouldn't want the credit.”

“Guy was guilty before I ever found him,” Miller said. “I just handed him in.”

How many times had he said that already? He sounded like a robot.

“How can I help you, Ryan?” Dawn asked. She started through the shooting range and Miller followed her. Several engineers were firing handcoils.

She grabbed a pair of shooting earmuffs and handed them to Miller.

“Well, Dawn, I'm here for a couple of reasons,” Miller said loudly. “I was working with a young lady in your office during the trial. Name was Margot.”

“Margot Drewery,” Dawn said. “She's one of my floating engineers.”

“Yep—great woman. Nice as can be.”

“Glad to hear that,” Dawn said, inserting her tablet into a metal tray on the wall. The tablet rested over a plastic bucket. She tapped something on the screen—a passcode. The wall shook and several bullet casings dropped into the plastic bucket.

Dawn reached into the bucket and grabbed a golden casing; it was spent and its edges were jagged from where it had torn through the barrel of the handcoil.

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