Jersey shrugged and walked over to hand him the gun back. "A little too noisy for my taste," she said, rubbing her hands to get the circulation back.

Hammer gave a short laugh. "I'm with you, Jersey." He pulled a particularly nasty-looking black pistol from the holster at his waist.

"I prefer the Colt Python .357. It also holds seven rounds, and unless you're going up against King Kong, it'll jet the job done with a lot less damage to your ears and hands."

Harley glanced at him as he held up the other gun, muttering, "Sissy,"

under his breath. He was perhaps the only man alive who would dare to call Hammer Ham-merick a sissy and live to tell about it. "This one you're already familiar with," Harley continued. "The Beretta 32.M93R. It fires 9mm parabellum sh.e.l.ls, the magazine holds twenty sh.e.l.ls, and it can fire three shots on Ml automatic each time you squeeze the trigger. It also has a small folding stock for your free hand to help steady your aim on automatic. This is the gun we're currently using, and I think most of you should stay with it. Not too heavy and virtually no recoil on single shots."

He stepped to the side. "I'll let Hammer fill you in on the long guns."

Hammer bent over the table and picked up a submachine gun they were all familiar with. "This, as you all know from previous experience, is the IMI Uzi. Thirty-round clip, 9mm, easy to control with the folding stock out, and a b.i.t.c.h to use like a pistol." He smiled. "Still, at over six hundred rounds a minute, it's very intimidating even if you don't hit anything with it," he added, glancing at Coop, who blushed and looked down at his feet.

"The new guy in town is the Heckler and Koch MP-10. The H&K MP-5 was the best on the market in its day, but the MP-10 is even better. Very reliable, uses 9mm sh.e.l.ls in a thirty-round clip, and the recoil is not too bad. It's one of the favorites of terrorists and SWAT teams, not to mention Harley and me also.""What's that big boy there next to the MP-10?" asked Anna.

Hammer grinned. "You mean this monster?" he asked, holding up a long-barreled gun with a large shoulder stock.

"Yeah," Coop said, "tell us about it."

"This is the Calico 45200. It only fires three-round bursts, but it comes with an integral holographic aim-point sight, gun camera, electronic ignition, gas vents, and a small gyroscope system that helps dampen movements from recoil. It's extremely reliable and controllable, 33.33.has a two-hundred-round magazine, and fires 4.5mm sh.e.l.ls. Not a gun you'd want to carry around in the field, but a nice addition to have available when you need lots of firepower."

Harley moved to pick up a very intimidating shotgun from the table.

"Now, for close-in firefights, this is the best in the business. This is the Franchi FAS."

"That looks a lot like the Franchi SPAS we used last year," Jersey said.

"Yeah, but with improvements," Harley said. "This one is made entirely of composite materials, and we've hacked the chip that controls the firing mechanism so it's now fully automatic. It fires fiechette rounds from a helical magazine that enhances the shotgun's precision and effect greatly, and it can also fire normal buckshot or slugs. And unlike the SPAS that only holds eight rounds, this baby will hold twenty. We've shortened the barrel and added a leather strap so it's easy to carry over your shoulder along with your other weapons."

Anna fingered the gun and raised her eyebrows.

"Go on, give it a try," Harley offered.

Anna moved to the firing platform and aimed from the hip at the target Jersey had shot at earlier. When she fired, the target was literally shredded by hundreds of nee-dlelike, razor-sharp, steel flechettes.

"Jesus," she whispered.

Jersey clapped her hands, laughing out loud. "h.e.l.l, Coop. That's the gun for you. Even you couldn't miss with that baby."

Coop didn't answer, but his eyes were on the shredded target and a small smile curled his lips.

"Impressive, but worthless in heavy brush or against men wearing flak jackets," Hammer observed.

34."You wanna show them the a.s.sault rifles?" Harley asked.

"Sure," Hammer answered. He held one up. "This is the Vektor 5.56mm CR21. It has an integral Vektor reflex optical sight, and is so accurateit can even be used for a sniper rifle. It can also be fitted with the latest RAPTOR night-vision scope, which will let you see in total darkness. As you can see, all of the new a.s.sault rifles are of the bullpup design."

"Uh, what the h.e.l.l's that?" Coop asked.

"That means the b.u.t.t plate is attached directly to the receiver with the trigger in front of the magazine, and they're usually shorter so they're easier to maneuver in the field."

He pointed at the table. "We included a couple of AK-07 's, the successor to the original Kalashnikov AK-47. The Finnish Valmet Corporation consulted with the Russians on the remake, and they did a good job. It, like the others, is a bullpup rifle, very short and easy to shoot, reliable in the worst conditions of sand or mud, and we'll probably be seeing it in use against us since the Russkies shipped them to every Third World country known to man in the old days."

"Show 'em my favorite," Harley said, his eyes excited.

"Yeah, mine too," Hammer said. He picked up an exotic-looking rifle.

"This is the ECAI, made by the European Combined Arms Initiative. It is the most advanced a.s.sault rifle in the world. It's a binary propellant rifle, so it doesn't need gunpowder. Instead it relies on two volatile gases that explode when mixed. It used to need to be in wireless contact with a central computer, but our lads at Intel have gussied these up to use imbedded chips. It can designate targets; it can coordinate indirect squad fire. It comes with an integral holographic aim point sight, tele- 35.35.scopic sight, infrared vision, gun camera, gas vents, and it also has a gyroscope to control recoil. It even has an integral grenade launcher that can control the grenade trajectory perfectly."

"Tell 'em the best part," Harley said.

"Oh, yeah. The user has his profile programmed into the gun, so when he, or she, grasps this rifle, it automatically formats to the individual soldier's preprogrammed settings. That means, if the gun is lost or confiscated, it can't be used by anyone else. It fires 4mm BP sh.e.l.ls, has a four-hundred-round magazine, and its gas bottle holds enough gas for eight hundred shots."

"Holy s.h.i.t," Coop said. "That sumb.i.t.c.h is like something outta Buck Rogers. A computer gun."

"That's why I like it so much," Harley said, laughing.

"I have a question," Beth said.

"Yeah?" Hammer replied.

"If these are programmed to individual troops, what if the user goes down and one of us needs to use the gun? Are you saying we won't be able to?""Not at all," Hammer said. "We plan to have several of these along, one in each a.s.sault vehicle, and all of them will be programmed to accept any of our group as a primary user."

Beth nodded. "Good, 'cause in a firefight, I don't want to pick up a weapon and have it tell me, 'Sorry, Charlie.' "

"Hey, what the heck is this?" Coop said. He was standing next to the table where Harley and Hammer had laid out all the weapons. "Don't tell me we're going back to using bows and arrows."

Harley stepped over and picked up the mini-crossbow Coop was talking about. It was pistol-size, and could be 36.used with one hand. Next to it lay several different types of projectiles.

"This little baby has been included to be used when stealth is necessary. Quieter than a pistol or rifle with a silencer, and extremely deadly at up to a hundred yards. And even better, these new darts we're using will penetrate a Kevlar vest or a flak jacket better than a bullet will." He dropped it back on the table. "But of course, we'll probably never need it. It's really more for the scout teams than us front-line-type troopers."

Hammer looked at his watch. "There's more here to go over. We still haven't gotten to accessories and communications yet, but it looks to me like it's past the lunch hour. Why don't we meet back here later this afternoon and we'll finish up and let you guys have some fun on the range with the new guns?"

The group all agreed and moved toward the mess hall, with Coop muttering something about them finding his bones bleaching in the hot sun after he starved to death.

37 FIVE.

After they'd finished eating, the group rea.s.sembled at the firing range, where another table of high-tech equipment was on display.

Harley and Hammer stepped up to the table. "Corrie," Hammer said, "this is mainly for you since you're our communications expert, but the rest of us need to get acquainted with the equipment too, just in case you get put out of action."

"Bite your tongue," Corrie said with a rueful grin.

"This is the AN/PRC 132 SOHFRAD," Hammer said, indicating a field radio equipped with a strap so it could be worn like a backpack. "That stands for Special Operations High Frequency Radio. It makes an uplink to any one of the special telecommunications satellites...o...b..ting the earth and relays the signal back down to the headsets the troops wear, as well as anywhere in the world it's programmed to communicate with."

Corrie's eyebrows rose. "You mean that our field communications would be able to be monitored by headquarters during a firefight?"

"Exactly," Hammer answered. "Unfortunately, the signal doesn't have a scrambler on it, so in a worst-case scenario, our enemies might be ableto listen too."

"The way around that is to change frequencies on a 38.preset schedule," Corrie said, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Yeah?" Hammer asked. "Well, I'll leave the details for you experts to work out with Intel and headquarters," Hammer said with a deprecating smile.

Corrie nodded as she ran her hands over the radio, obviously intrigued with her new toy.

Harley pointed at the table. "We also have some other goodies for you to get acquainted with. Those tubes over there are Stinger missile launchers, and next to them are the new JAVELIN ant.i.tank weapons-lightweight, portable, fire and forget, and they fire a 127mm-diameter missile. They'll take out just about anything in their range, from a ship to a helicopter or tank."

He moved a few feet to his left and indicated some grenades lying in a row. "Here we have some bang-bangs you've all used before: M-76 smoke grenades, M-25 CS riot grenades, and M-651 tear-gas grenades, along with the usual frag and stun grenades. We even have a couple of CPAD Tech rocket grenades for you to try." He looked up at the group. "I know you've all used these before, but Buddy wants us to do some practicing since it's been a while since we've been in action."

Hammer added, "There're a couple of new night-vision scopes there too.

The best is the RAPTOR, though the BENS 9304 and the Jaguar ain't bad.

Buddy wants us to get used to firing at night using all of them."

"I hope it's better than the old ones," Coop said. "I couldn't see s.h.i.t through them."

"And your shooting showed it," Jersey muttered, causing Coop to grimace.

"This newer-generation scope doesn't have quite the greenish tinge the older models had, and some can also be used with thermal imaging so you can pick out your 39.39.enemy by his body heat. Anyway, tonight after it gets dark, we'll all give them a try."

"Buddy's gonna join us," Harley said, grinning. "He says he's got a lot to live up to taking over from Ben an' he plans to make sure he'll hold up his end."

Coop looked around at the group. "I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say I've seen Buddy in action before and he doesn't have to take a backseat to anybody, Ben included."

The other members of the group all nodded their agreement, and they left to get some supper and get ready for the night's fun and games with the new toys.In Kandahar, Farid Zamet walked into El Farrar's office, finding him in a discussion with Muhammad Atwa.

Farrar looked up, noticing Zamet's clothing still had specks of blood and tissue on it.

"How did the interrogation of Ecevil's family go?" he asked, his nostrils flaring a little at the stench of excrement and urine that entered with Zamet.

"Not well. Neither the wife nor the children knew of his treachery."

"Are you sure?" Atwa asked, clearly not convinced.

Zamet examined his hands and idly picked at the blood under his fingernails while he answered. "Believe me, I asked them real hard. If they did know anything, they took the information with them to their graves."

Atwa turned back in his chair to face Farrar. "We must a.s.sume at least part of our plan has been compromised. I suggest we move as rapidly as possible before significant opposition can be mounted."

"I agree," Farrar said. "In fact, the operation is already under way."

40."Oh?"

"Yes." Farrar hesitated, wrinkling his nose, and then he looked at Zamet, still standing before him. "Farid, would you mind going to your quarters and taking a shower and changing your clothes? I find the continued olfactory remnants of Ecevil's family extremely annoying."

Zamet rapidly nodded, backing toward the door. "Of course, my leader."

"You were saying?" Atwa asked after Zamet had left the room.

"I have arranged for several teams of our most trusted and able troops to ship out of the port of Karachi in Pakistan today."

Atwa appeared surprised. "You're sending them by ship? I thought you would have them parachute into the oil fields."

Farrar shook his head. "No, they need far too much equipment to do that, and I don't want the plutonium put at risk that way."

"But how will they manage to take over the oil fields by ship?"

"At this moment, there are at least ten oil tankers returning to the Persian Gulf, empty after off-loading then-cargoes of oil in various nations. The ship my men are on will intercept each of them and claim to be disabled. When they stop to help, squads of our troops will take over the ships. When they finally call at their home ports in Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Iraq, and Iran, my men will take control of the ports and then proceed to the oil fields. By the time the UN can send in backup troops, the plutonium bombs will have been set."

Atwa inclined his head in admiration. "Ingenious plan, Abdullah."41 41.Farrar glanced at his watch. "Within forty-eight hours, I my men should be in control of the oil fields in all of the countries bordering the Persian Gulf." He stared at I Atwa with the glittering eyes of a fanatic. "Then it will I be time to present my demands to the U.N."

Atwa smiled and spread his arms. "And they will have I no choice but to accede to them."

"If they do not, we will destroy eighty percent of the I world's oil supply and drive the infidels back into the

Dark Ages."

"Oh, my dear friend," Atwa said, frowning, "you are I much too negative.

Let us think only positive thoughts, (about how the entire world will be at our knees in a fortnight."

"You are right, Muhammad," Farrar said. He raised his

gla.s.s of juice.

"To success," he said.

Atwa hid his grimace and returned the toast, choking I down the juice and again wishing it were scotch.

42 Jason Briggs, captain of the oil tanker Exxon Marquis, was in his quarters going over satellite weather reports when his second in command, Peter Gallagher, entered the room.

Briggs looked up and saw the worried look on Gallagher's face. "What's up, Pete?" he asked, reaching automatically for his pipe, which he seldom lit but constantly chewed on, especially in times of stress. "The weather reports couldn't be better."

"There's something you oughta see out here, Cap'n," Gallagher answered.

Briggs sighed and got to his feet, wincing as his knees cracked. He was going on sixty years old, and planned to retire at the end of this year.

His joints were shot after forty plus years of standing on bucking, jumping decks of ships.

He led the way from his cabin to the bridge, which was only about fifty yards away.

When they got to the bridge, Gallagher pointed through the huge Plexiglas front windshield and asked, "What do you think about that?"

Briggs leaned his head to the side, staring out from under bushy gray eyebrows. "d.a.m.ned if I know. Has 43.43.there been any radio contact? SOS or Mayday calls for help?"

"No, and that's what I can't understand," Gallagher replied.

Five hundred yards in front of the ship, a rusted-out freighter lay deadin the water, billows of smoke coming from her forward hold and sending black clouds over the water to lay there like a bank of fog.

"Has anyone appeared on the decks?" Briggs asked, reaching for the pair of ancient binoculars hanging next to the captain's chair.

Gallagher shook his head as he stared at the ship. "No, sir."