Diamond stiffened. I shifted the view on the scope slightly. Nightwielder stood beside the wall of weapons. He was pointing toward an open space where hooks jutted from the wall—where the gauss gun had been.
“There was something here, was there not?” Nightwielder asked. He almost never spoke to someone directly like this. It didn’t seem to be a good sign. “You only opened today. You have already had business?”
“I … don’t discuss other clients,” Diamond said. “You know this.”
Nightwielder looked back at the wall. At that moment, Megan bumped a box as she was moving steel dust. It didn’t make a loud noise—in fact, she didn’t even seem to notice she’d done it. But Nightwielder swiveled his head in our direction. Diamond followed his gaze; the weapons merchant looked so nervous you could have turned milk into butter by sticking his hand in it.
“He’s noticed us,” I said softly.
“What?” Abraham said, still concentrating.
“Just … keep at it,” I said, standing. “And stay quiet.”
It was time for a little more improvising.
18
I shouldered Abraham’s gun, ignoring Megan’s soft curse. I trotted out from behind the boxes before she could restrain me, and at the last moment I remembered to pop the earpiece out of my ear and stow it.
As I left the shadows, Nightwielder’s soldiers trained guns on me with quick motions. I felt a spike of anxiety, the prickling sensation of defenselessness. I hate it when people point guns at me … though I guess that makes me like pretty much everyone else.
I continued on. “Boss,” I called, patting the weapon. “I got it working. Magazine comes out easily now.”
Nightwielder’s soldiers glanced toward him, as if looking for permission to shoot. The Epic clasped his hands behind his back, studying me with ethereal eyes. He didn’t seem to notice, but his elbow brushed the wall and passed right through the solid steel.
He studied me but remained motionless. The goons didn’t shoot. Good sign.
Come on, Diamond, I thought, trying to contain my nervousness. Don’t be an idiot. Say someth—
“Was it the release pin?” Diamond asked.
“No, sir,” I said. “The magazine was bent slightly on one side.” I gave a respectful nod to Nightwielder and his flunkies, then moved over to set the gun in the spot on the wall. It fit, fortunately. I’d guessed it would, considering it was close to the same size as the gauss gun.
“Well, Diamond,” Nightwielder’s female attendant said. “Perhaps you can tell us of this new addition. It looks like it—”
“No,” Nightwielder said softly. “I will hear it from the boy.”
I froze, then turned around, nervous. “Sir?”
“Tell me about this gun,” Nightwielder said.
“The boy’s a new hire,” Diamond said. “He doesn’t—”
“It’s all right, boss,” I said. “That’s a Manchester 451. The weapon is a powerhouse—fifty caliber, with electron-compressed magazines. Each holds eight hundred rounds. The select-fire system supports single shot, burst, and full auto capabilities. It has gravatonic recoil reduction for shoulder firing, with optional advanced magnitude scope including audio receiving, range finding, and a remote firing mechanism. It also includes the optional grenade launcher. Equipped rounds are armor-piercing incendiary, sir. You couldn’t ask for a better gun.”
Nightwielder nodded. “And this?” he said, pointing to the gun next to it.
My palms were sweating. I shoved them in my pockets. That was … it was a … Yes, I knew. “Browning M3919, sir. An inferior gun, but very good for the price. Also fifty caliber, but without the recoil suppression, the gravatonics, or the electron compression. It is excellent as a mounted weapon—with the advanced heat sinks on the barrel, it can fire around eight hundred rounds a minute. Over a mile effective range with remarkable accuracy.”
The corridor fell still. Nightwielder regarded the gun, then turned to his minions and made a curt gesture. That nearly made me jump with alarm, but the others seemed to relax. I’d passed Nightwielder’s test, apparently.
“We will want to see the Manchester,” the woman said. “This is exactly what we are looking for; you should have mentioned it earlier.”
“I … was embarrassed about the magazine sticking,” Diamond said. “It’s a known problem with Manchesters, I’m afraid. Every gun has its quirks. I’ve heard that if you file down one of the top edges of the magazine, it slides much more easily. Here, let me get that back down for you.…”
The conversation continued, but I was forgotten. I was able to step back to where I wouldn’t be in the way. Should I try to slip away? I wondered. It would seem suspicious if I went to the back of the hallway again, wouldn’t it? Sparks. It looked like they were going to buy Abraham’s gun. I hoped he’d forgive me for that.