The Most Dangerous Dame

I shrugged off the unasked question. “Photographic memory. I read something and it sticks. No big deal.”

He nodded. “So… can’t interest you in this baby? She’ll be gone quick, I tell you.”

“I kinda doubt that, Sarge. Walking around with unauthorized SS armory is a real quick way to get buried deep and fast. So I hear, anyway. Only a rube would wanna cross the Service. Smart eggs know better than to stick their grabbers in the fire.”

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.