"Charles Ingrid - The Sand Wars 06 - Challenge Met" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ingrid Charles)

"Consider it given."

Wrinkles deepened momentarily in his contact's expression, then he
shrugged. "I can handle it. What about the ident chip?"

Satisfaction broadened Vandover's smile. "She doesn't carry one," he said.
"Do whatever you want."
 "All right." The screen went dark as the com line closed.

With a little luck, Vandover reflected, Amber's body would never be
identified properly—or even found. And if it was, all signs would point to
another terrorist atrocity against Pepys by the Green Shirts. No, disposing of
Amber was a strategy which would work well whatever its consequences.

He pushed away from the keyboard with long, tapering fingers that
ached as if they could already feel the curve of her throat within their grasp.

A com light flickered, signaling another incoming call. Vandover
hesitated. Pepys would be demanding his time and he still had field reports
to evaluate… but anything coming in over this line would be from his own
security units within the World Police or the local sweepers. A morsel of
information from there was too sweet to ignore. He opened the line.

The screen stayed dark. The informant did not wish his face shown, then,
but Vandover's grid confirmed the retinal pattern of the speaker and he
knew immediately who talked to him.

"Minister?"

"I'm here," Vandover replied carefully. His screen did not relay such
niceties of information to the other caller. Baadluster winced a little at
hearing the harsh accent of under-Malthen mingled with a touch of the
Outward Bound planets as the informant spoke again.

"Several years ago you were looking for… a custom weapon."

A chill thrilled its way up Vandover's spine. "A weapon?"

"Yes. Molded for a specific need. You went through Winton for its
inception, but when he was killed, you lost track of that weapon."

"Ah," was all Vandover breathed in confirmation. This was unexpected
serendipity, indeed. Then, "You've located it?"

"Yes and no. I have the weapon's identity. You'll have to go from there."
 Vandover's knuckles whitened. Winton had died without passing on all
of his information to his partner, even such vital information as this.
Undoubtedly, the former security chief had been as uneasy in his alliance
with Vandover as Vandover had been with Winton. A plan some fifteen