Johnson smiled as he put the iron away. “There’s always a buyer, Mick. This is New Haven, after all. The Service has no jurisdiction here, remember?”
I guess I could have told him New Haven had recently been infiltrated and nearly destroyed by Secret Service agents. And I was one of those agents before my memory was laundered and inserted into an independent synoid. Only I didn’t feel like getting laughed at. Or having to go through a lengthy and bewildering explanation about memory transplants and a mentally imprisoned populace.
I nodded instead. “Yeah.”
Johnson scratched his beard as he went through more cases of weaponry. “And here’s your custom order. Keeping it old school. Can’t be mad at you.”
He held up my baby. The Mean Ol’ Broad, resurrected from the dead.
“As you requested, a snub nose Magnum base seven-shot revolver. Rubber grip designed according to your hand’s specifications. Mech enhancements only to preserve durability and shot efficiency along with biological recognition to disarm the safety.”
He shook his head. “I gotta say, I was a bit disappointed. As far as custom jobs go, this wasn’t exactly a challenge to build.”
I ignored him as I got reacquainted with my girl. I knew I was back in business as soon as I touched her. There was no way to know if Johnson could have replicated the old piece of iron that had been melted into slag by the New Man a short while back, but Sarge’s work was as good as advertised.
The Mean Ol’ Broad was more than just an ordinary heater. I’d gotten her from a codger named Wiseman, who’d showed me the ropes of troubleshooting back when I was a wandering amnesiac. That put a lot of sentimental value in the old girl. I’d felt lost without her.
I smiled. “Feels like a winner, Johnson. ‘Course, I gotta throw lead before I know if she’s the right girl for me.”
He jerked a thumb toward the back. “The targets are outside.”
About a hundred rounds later I nodded in appreciation. “I gotta admit you do some solid work, brother. I’ll take her.”
Johnson removed his protective muffs and snorted. “Of course you’ll take her. Nice shooting, by the way.”
He narrowed his eyes and whistled as the results came in on the console. “Ninety-seven percent rating. I’ve only seen that a few times, Mick.” He gave me a keen glance. “From the mandroids at the precinct.”
“Street sweepers? Shouldn’t those can openers make one hundred?”
“Nothing’s perfect, Mick. That’s why they do the shots — to get their targeting programs lined up. But you… that’s unheard of. For anyone outside of the Service, anyhow.”
I turned and looked him in the eye. “You got something on your mind, Sarge? Stop the foreplay and get straight to the nasty.”
He chuckled. “No questions, Mick. A man in my business doesn’t get a lot of business asking questions. I only make observations.”
“Yeah, well observe me paying my tab.”
Johnson glanced at Poddar. “And what can I get you, my quiet friend? You can’t tell me you didn’t see anything of interest.”
Poddar shook his head. “No thank you.”
I grinned as I slipped the Mean Ol’ Broad in the holster under my arm. “Poddar doesn’t believe in firearms. Not much, anyhow. He likes to kill ‘em softly.”
Poddar folded his arms. “I prefer not to kill them at all.”
I cleared my throat.
Poddar frowned. “That was different.”
I put my hands in my pockets and whistled a tune. To myself, of course.
Poddar’s face reddened. “Ms. Kilby was in danger. I had no choice.”
I looked up. “What? Oh — of course not, Ace. Nothing makes a man snap like his moll being kidnapped by a notorious gangster who didn’t really kidnap her at all. Right?”
He dropped his head. “I didn’t know. She… she didn’t—”
I patted his shoulder. “Not to worry, Poddar. Dames will turn a man’s world upside down in a heartbeat. Trust me… ” my voice trailed off. “I know.”
Johnson gave us a wry glance. “You two done with all the male bonding or do you need a room? I’m running a business here, you know. Got things to do.”
Poddar looked around. “You work here alone? Aren’t you afraid of being robbed?”
Johnson chuckled. “You think all these drone guns are for show? Threat detectors are on at all times. Any chump with the guts to try something will be filled with daylight before he thinks twice. And if that don’t stop ‘em… ”
His artificial arm opened with a twist of his wrist. Metal tendons separated and shifted as they reformed into a heavy mech cannon. He aimed at a mannequin target in the distance and fired a booming shot.
The target disintegrated. Extinguishers drifted over and blasted to put out the flames.
Johnson grinned. “I give ‘em a taste of my Johnson. Get the picture?”
“A firearm… literally.” I took a closer look. “I usually don’t admire bioguns, but that’s pure genius, Sarge.”
He winked as his arm smoothly folded back in place with a whir of oiled gears. “Don’t I know it. Lot more it can do, but I can’t give up all my secrets.”
We walked back into the lobby. “Can’t say I blame you. What else do you got for me?”
“What else do you need?”
“Can’t think of nothing, except some rounds for my girl here.” I patted the Mean Ol’ Broad. “I got what I came for.”
“All this heat and you walk off with a single handgun. Let’s see if you can say no to this.” He pulled a tiny handgun from one of the nearby drawers and handed it to me.
It barely registered as weight in my hand. “What’s this peashooter do?”
“It’s the new Ruger model. Light as a feather, but packs a major wallop. Six plus one rounds.” He held one of them up to the light. “Transparent casing so you can see what’s inside.”
I took a closer look. “Some kind of white powder.”
“Concentrated mercury fulminate, my friend. These slugs are manufactured to explode on impact, guaranteeing whatever you tag won’t exactly be walking away, catch my drift?”
“Sounds messy.”
“The best kills are.” A conniving light gleamed in his eyes. “Say you’ll take it and I’ll toss in the automated sleeve holster. Snap your fingers twice and it’ll release the pistol from the holster to your hand in less than a second. Might come in handy in a tight spot.”
I shook my head and sighed. “You talked me into it, Sarge. You rob all your clients like this?”
“Only the best ones.” He set the piece on the counter, tossed in a few boxes of slugs, and rang me up.
I swiped my holoband across the sensor on the counter for payment. “Good thing my last gig actually left me with a little dib stash. Makes it a bit less painful to part with these hard-earned berries.”
He nodded appreciatively. “Dibs are meant to be spent, my man. That’s why we do what we do.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
He handed my goods over with a grin. “Take it easy, Mick. Send some customers my way.”
I tipped my Bogart. “Yeah, like you need the extra work. You already have every goon in town toting your wetware.”
He grinned. “Never hurts to get a little more, right?”
“Amen, brother. See you around.”
With the Mean Ol’ Broad back, I felt pretty good as Maxine purred across the highway. Rain still slicked the road, but that was nothing new. Rain was as common as gunshots in New Haven. Hardly a day went by without one or the other. Most days featured both.
We made it back to the office in good time. The covered sidewalks kept us from getting soaked on the way from the garage.