The Man Who Never Missed by Steve Perry Read Free Book Online

It would be dangerous, maybe foolishly so. The big holoproj was hardly over—it was only just started—but this portion of it was coming to a close. Khadaji had mixed emotions about it. On the one hand, there was the fear—he could end it all now if he screwed it up. On the other hand, if he pulled it off, it would be the final touch, a major coup. And it was the last. If it worked, it would serve and if it failed, well, there were risks in everything. As Subru had put it, one could be flattened by a ground-effect tank while crossing the street. Life was always shadowed by death.
    Preparations were simple. Khadaji took the container of extra spetsdod darts from his desk, along with the writing pad with the number of casualties from the hidden box under his desk and dropped them into a public disposal. There was a flash as the unit’s lasers ignited the rigged packets. The disposal was built to take worse and now that evidence was gone. If nothing else, the legend was safe.
    He walked back to the Jade Flower and used the public com just outside the fresher. As he waited for the connection to be made, he looked around, taking in the sights and sounds and smells of the pub. It was all very sharp, diamond-clear, made so he realized by the fact this might be the last time he would see it. Interesting how a man’s mind worked—
    “Befalhavare Creg’s office.”
    Khadaji turned his attention to the com. “This is Emile Khadaji, owner of the Jade Flower. I’d like to speak to the Befalhavare.”
    “Hold, sir, I’ll get the Sub—”
    “Negative, mister. I need the Old Man himself.”
    “Sir, Befalhavare Creg is in conference at the moment and cannot be disturbed. If you would like to leave a message, you will be contacted when—”
    “Listen, mister, I am holding ‘Ears Only’ material for your C.O. You don’t want to be the one who kept him from hearing it ASAP.”
    There was a pause. Khadaji could imagine the soldier’s thoughts. There were procedures, standing orders which were supposed to be followed. Deviation from such could mean his ass; on the other hand, if Khadaji—a man of some local standing—was holding ‘Ears Only’ material and wasn’t put through, the Old Man might use somebody’s balls for marbles. Either way was a risk. It would depend upon how bright the clerk was.
    He was bright. “Hold a moment, sir, I’ll put you through.”
    Khadaji grinned into the comset.
    The Old Man was not one to waste words. “What?”
    “Befalhavare Creg, Emile Khadaji, I’m the owner—”
    “I know who you are, sir. What is your business rattling my clerk?”
    Khadaji smiled again. “I know who the leaders of the Shamba Forces are.”
    “I’ll send a quad for you, stay where you are.”
    Naturally, Khadaji thought, the call would be traced, but it wasn’t going to be played that way. “I would rather not be a target,” Khadaji said. “I’ll get to your office on my own. But if word gets out, I’m a dead man. This is between the two of us, no one else.”
    “My word,” Befal Creg said.
    “I am on my way.”
    Khadaji’s grin broadened as he broke the connection. The Old Man would be scrambling already, getting stress analyzers set up, recorders checked, drugs and electropophy gear brought to his office. A commander of ten thousand men would hardly be careless when it involved something this major. Khadaji expected no less. By the time he left the Jade Flower, probably a dozen quads would have been com-dispatched to collect him.
    The first quad found him within two minutes. Another joined for backup. Five men and three women formed a circle around Khadaji and escorted him to the Befalhavare’s office, alert for any attacks by the Shamba Scum. Khadaji allowed himself a short laugh.
    The security at the C.O.’s office was impressive. Fifty troopers, half in class three armor, and a ground-effect spin-gun guarded the building. The Scum weren’t going to storm this building. Khadaji kept his face