The Zeppelin Jihad Read Online Free Page A

the girl coming? ” Laughter followed.
    I ’ m pretty sure I was blushing. I refused to lower my eyes, though. Instead I kept my head up, which is why I could see the smirk on Speer ’ s lips .
    “ With that keen eye for operational detail, Abernathy, I can ’ t believe you haven ’ t made sergeant yet. Special Agent Hoff is the United States ’ eyes and ears on this caper. Here to make sure we primitives do a good job. Being that she represents a key trading partner, and that you would no doubt prefer your loved ones to travel by helium and not its more combustible cousin, yes, she will be joining us. ” More laughter. “ The Special Agent will accompany us in the infantry element. Sgt. Baylor will command the armored element. ”
    “ How will the sergeant know to assist us if he ’ s so far away? ” Abernathy asked. I ’ d been wondering the same thing. Radio has been around for over a century, but I ’ d yet to see one, and didn ’ t know if it was kosher to Steam Pointe orthodoxy.
    “ The way you queens will scream if anything goes wrong, I ’ ll be able to hear it even with my engines on, ” Sgt. Baylor called out.
    “ Or we ’ ll simply launch a flare, ” Speer said . “ And with that spirit of team cooperation, I yield the floor to our esteemed Triclops commander. ”
    Baylor was a thickset man with a lumberjack beard. He looked like he ’ d have trouble catching anyone going faster than a slow jog, but if he did, it wouldn ’ t be hard for him to crush their trachea with those tree-trunk arms.
    “ As Inspector Speer mentioned during his comedy routine, ” Baylor began, “ your orders are to take this terrorist alive. You ’ ll be shocked not-at-all to learn that he ’ s Arab. His name is Mohammad Talib. You ’ ll be given photographs to help identify him, but just remember that if he has a deeper suntan than you, that ’ s probably our man. ” With that, Baylor began outlining the route this steam-driven lynch mob would take.
    The caravan rumbled out of the SIO ’ s courtyard just as the sun was beginning to set. The Triclops turned out to be a combination of locomotive and tank — an armored, self-propelled artillery piece with not one but three long barrels protruding out. Three small zeppelins whispered off the building ’ s rooftop, and shadowed us from above.
    Inside the lead personnel carrier, I checked my Glock.
    Speer sat across from me. “ Nervous? ” he asked.
    “ Excited. ”
    “ I just thought you might be anxious, given how you ’ re fidgeting with your sidearm. ”
    “ You don ’ t think it ’ s a good idea to check your equipment before an operation? ”
    From his holster he pulled out his revolver to show me. It was large and long-barreled, like something a movie cowboy might use. Its black metal was inlaid with silver blazons. It could have been something from a museum except that the scratches made clear it had seen heavy use. “ Unlike autoloading pistols, revolvers never jam. ”
    “ I ’ d rather have an autoloader ’ s higher capacity, ” I said, ejecting the Glock ’ s magazine and brandishing its ten rounds in front of him. “ Not to mention the quick reloading. ”
    “ We have rapid-loading as well. Plus, we enjoy more exotic bullet capabilities. ” Speer opened his gun ’ s cylinder and pulled out one of its six bullets. The cartridge was thick as a .45, but longer than any magnum load I ’ d seen. “ Jacketed hollow-point for ordinary circumstances, ” he said. Then, depressing a button near the hammer, he detached the cylinder and put it aside.
    From a vest pocket, he withdrew another cylinder, except this one was gold. He took out a round, and I could see its red tip. “ Mercury-tipped explosive for more trying circumstances, ” he said. Then he reloaded the bullet, and attached the cylinder to his revolver.
    “ You people use explosive bullets? ”
    “ Sometimes. ”
    “ I ’ d heard that there isn ’ t much street crime here.