"Clancy, Tom - Net Force 02 - Hidden Agendas" - читать интересную книгу автора (Clancy Tom)

to index the target.
Six feet in front of Howard the mugger stopped
cold as the 91-grain Cor-Bon Bee Safe
frangible bullet slammed into his center of mass
at just under 1600 feet per second.
The second shot was a quarter second behind the
first.
The mugger froze, and glowing red lights pulsed
on his chest where the rounds impacted. Most people
didn't realize just how fast a running man with a
knife could move. Anot her half a second and the
ersatz thug would have been all over him.
Howard glanced at the computer next to the shooting
box.
There was a small holoprojection of the mugger over
the computer and stats under it. Elapsed time:
1.34 seconds from start to shot. Organ hit:
heart. Estimated one-shot-stop percentage: 94.
The revolver didn't hold as many rounds as an
HandK Tactical pistol, but it was a kind of
talisman for Howard, and he was more comfortable with it.
As he reholstered the gun, he noticed his right
shoulder felt sore.
Well, no, not so much sore as ... tired
somehow. After one draw? Seemed like he'd been
tired a lot lately-- "Not bad for an old
man," Sergeant Julio Fernandez said.
He was in the next shooting box at the indoor
range, making a lot of smoke and noise with his
beat-up old Army-issue Beretta 9mm.
"Reset," Howard said. He grinned.
The mugger vanished. Had it been a real
attacker instead of a holoprojic target, the
frangible bullets would have each dumped 550
foot-pounds of energy into the man and, because the rounds were
designed to fragment on impact, would have shredded the
attacker's heart into mush, and they wouldn't have
over-penetrated and gone on down the street to maybe
kill some little old lady out walking her dog. This was
a very important consideration in an urban scenario.
Of course, frangible wasn't good for
shooting through solid walls or car doors, but the
next two rounds in the cylinder were standard jacketed
hollow points that would do that just fine. If the mugger
had been in a car, Howard could have cycled past the first
two rounds, or, in a hurry, just pulled the trigger
twice to get to the jacketed stuff.
"Morning, gentlemen," he heard somebody say
behind him. The wolf-ear headphones he wore
amplified normal sounds, but cut out anything loud