"Steve Perry - The Man Who Never Missed" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Steven)

he had othersтАФthe better part of a case of them from the shipment he'd stolen.
Twenty spetsdods and ten thousand rounds of Spasm dartsтАФand that number, ten
thousand, was very important.

Although he felt naked without the weapons, Khadaji stepped out onto the
street as if he owned it and started toward the Jade Flower. He would have
plenty of time to get there and collect another pair of spetsdods before his
last station was due. So far, he'd only taken out five of the Confed's finest,
and he needed at least eight more to maintain his schedule. He wanted to
average a hundred a week, but it was getting harder all the time. He'd been at
it for almost six months and the first troops would be coming out of lock
pretty soon. When that began to happen, it would be over. Even if the confed
military tried to lid it, word would eventually get out that only one man's
description kept coming up. They wouldn't believe it, of course, not at first,
but it would plant a seed. They would never admit that one man could mimic
hundredsтАФmilitary PR would smash the idea flat, that thousands of trained
troops could be downed by a single assassin. But if they knew, it would be
over fast. They were looking for guerrillas in packs, not the owner and
operator of the Jade Rower, the biggest recreational chemical pub in the city,
a man whose business depended on the military, as customers and patrons.
Soldiers needed rec-chem almost as much as they needed sex and the Jade Flower
supplied both in abundance. More than a few of the Sub-Befals spent time
there. Khadaji made certain that upranks got the best whores, male and female,
and the first drink or toke or pop was always on the house to anybody over
line-grade. He was a popular man, Khadaji was.

So, two more stations, six more hits. He sighed. Nearly six months, and he was
getting tired. He didn't waver from his purposeтАФthat was as clear as everтАФbut
he was tired. Not much longer. Not many more.

He sighed again, and hurried along the street. A quad passed him, going the
other way. The men all smiled and nodded at him. He smiled back. He would
probably see them later.

One way or another.

Chapter Two

THE JADE FLOWER was always open. Before the Confed had honored Greaves with
its massive squat tactics, the rec-chem pub had been only a small-time
operation, serving the locals a narrow spectrum of alcohol and soporifics,
minor hallucinogens and mood elevators. Two or three part-time prostitutes
took care of anybody interested in buying sex, and the operation was, at best,
a break-even proposition. With the coming of the military and its civilian
support population, the character of the Jade Flower was bound to change. A
greedy and well-prepared man would have made a fortune, but the previous owner
was old and tired and not ready to deal with the influx of soldiers, bored
spouses and children the Confed bent to the sleepy planet. When Khadaji
arrived and waved enough standards under his nose, the old man was glad to
sell.