Howard drew his sidearm. The Medusa was a revolver with a patented chamber design that allowed it to fire dozens of different calibers of ammunition, from.380 auto to.357 Magnum. It had a three-inch barrel, which was a bit shorter than most issue sidearms, but it was match-grade, and it shot better from a rest than Howard could do offhand. He carried it loaded with.357 Magnum copper-jacketed hollowpoints, and as such, it was better than a ninety-five percent one-shop stopper with a solid body hit.
Howard took an isosceles stance and a couple of deep breaths, then brought the revolver up two-handed. He lined up the sights and squeezed off a round. The backlash from the.357 was fairly stout, but his hearing protectors damped out the noise. He lowered his weapon.
“And now the third target, sir, behind the glass.”
Howard lined up and shot the second round.
“And finally, General, the first clay block.”
Howard snapped the revolver up and fired again, quickly. He didn’t need to hurry, but it never hurt to remind his old friend that he could shoot fast and accurately when the situation required it.
“Thank you,” Julio said. “Now dump and reload these, sir, if you please.”
Julio handed him a half-dozen cartridges. They looked like standard.357 ammo, far as Howard could tell. Brass cases, lead-nosed, copper jacket.
As he reloaded, Julio said, “While these look pretty much the same as any solid-jacketed round, they are actually made up of several powdered metals and a polymer similar to the plastic used in Glock frames.”
Howard nodded and continued loading them into his Medusa.
“The jacket is an alloy with a slick moly-coat. Not prefragged, but a solid unit. Not plus-P, either, standard pressure stuff. If you’ll shoot the second, fourth, and sixth targets.”
Having made his point earlier, Howard took his time, ten seconds or so to hit the three targets.
Julio nodded. “Now we wait for the Marines to stop firing so we can go downrange.”
When the range officer called a cease-fire, Howard and Julio walked the short distance to the six targets. Julio pulled the nylon off the tops of the ballistic gel blocks, a substance designed to replicate muscle tissue, revealing the stretch cavities.
The one on the right, the new rounds, was much larger than the one immediately to its left.
“The stuff you carry is one-twenty-five-grain jacketed hollow point. It comes out of your barrel at about fourteen hundred feet per second. The energy in foot/pounds is around four hundred. RBCD’s.357 Mag bullet is only sixty grains, but it leaves a three-inch barrel at better than eighteen hundred feet per second, with an E/fp of around five hundred. Expands like a balloon when it hits, you see. That’s a permanent stretch cavity, twenty by twenty-seven centimeters. It dumps the energy into the target without overpenetration.”
“Impressive,” Howard said, and he meant it.
“The best is yet to come, sir. Look at the glass-protected blocks.”
They did. The impact of his usual round with the glass had partially deformed the bullet. It shattered the glass, then went through and hit the gelatin, and it still penetrated and left a big hole, but it was shallower and smaller around than the block without the glass. Which was to be expected. Glass was a serious pain.
However, the cavity in the second glass shot, the one with the new ammo, was virtually the same as the one without the glass in front of it.
“See, the RBCD stuff is designed to punch right through a solid, almost like military ball ammo, but when it hits a hydraulic substance, the expansion cranks up. The powder is progressive-burn, so you get standard pressure for the full length of the barrel. That way you don’t have to worry about blowing your gun up.”
Howard nodded. It definitely seemed like superior ammunition.
“Now for the fun stuff.” Julio pulled the covers off the clay blocks. The left one had the usual small entry hole, and was ballooned up with a big cavity.
The one on the right? The whole block was splashed open wide.
“More accurate, more powerful, better penetration through cover, better expansion on soft targets. Though you can’t tell with that old hog leg you carry, it feeds very nicely through a semiauto, and they have a nine that will feed like oil through a full auto. What’s not to like?”
“I know you well enough to know there’s another shoe. Drop it, Lieutenant.”
Julio grinned. “Well, sir, it’s a tad more expensive than standard ammunition.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“But when it is your life on the line, you aren’t going to begrudge a few cents, now are you?”
He had a point.
“I’m not saying we should buy carloads of it to practice or plink with, but as a duty round, this is the top of the line. I’m going to carry it in my Beretta even if I have to pay for it myself, and you ought to use it in your wheelgun. At the very least, you could order a few cases for evaluation. Think of it this way — if you have to shoot somebody, you’ll save money ’cause you’ll only have to shoot them once… ”
“Given our experiences with the legal system of late, Lieutenant, you might have to explain to a jury why you are carrying these rhino-stoppers in your sidearm if you do have to shoot somebody.”
“Better twelve men trying me than six men carrying me,” Julio observed.
Howard nodded. Yes. You didn’t want to shoot anybody unless it was a matter of life or death, but if you did have to shoot, you wanted them to cease their attempts to kill you immediately.
“All right,” Howard said. “Get a few cases. Nines, forties, forty-five, thirty-eight Special, and a couple boxes of.357 Magnum.”
“Yes, sir!”
“A few cases, Lieutenant. Not a warehouse full.”
“You wound me, sir.”
“I don’t think so, Julio. I think even these things would bounce right off — you’re bulletproof when it comes to this kind of thing.”
“I try, sir. I do try.”
24
“They can’t be serious,” Michaels said, looking at the list of requested documents. It had come via e-mail and certified letter, both. He had the e-mail open on his computer.
“They are, Commander,” Tommy said. “They are quite serious.”
Michaels shook his head. “They want copies of every e-mail sent by every operative of this agency between these two dates? We’re talking about eight or ten thousand letters, maybe more.”
“That’s correct.”
Alex pointed at a line on his screen. “And all these work files, personal notes, and official reports? If we printed them out, we’d have to rent a moving van to haul them!”
“Electronic copies are acceptable, Commander, as long as they are certified by a DOJ or GAO inspector.”
“Do you know how much time we’ll waste pulling all this up? Time that could be better spent solving crimes — or stopping new ones from happening?”
“The only option is to allow Ames or his representatives access to your computer systems, which, of course, we can’t do, in the interests of national security — unless they hire somebody with adequate clearance, and that’s not going to happen since just about anybody with that kind of clearance already works for us. You have to cough it up, Commander. It’s the rule.”
“But it’s stupid,” Alex said. “Stupid, inefficient, and wasteful.”
“I understand. And I’m sure they’ll be happy to take it in small pieces.”
Alex glared at him. “Yeah, well, you know what? That’s not how they are going to get it. I’ll wait until I have a chunk big enough for them to choke on. And you know what else? I am going to print it all out, too.”