Read Online Gideon's War/Hard Target by Howard Gordon - Free Book Online Page B

“Sorry to interrupt your important conversation,” he said in a tone that didn’t sound the least bit sorry, “but I’m supposed to be on that chopper out to the Obelisk.” He pointed toward the idling chopper outside. “Dr. Cole Ransom.”
    The white people who worked at Trojan Energy generally talked to Mohanese people as if they were children. But this man was different, more than simply dismissive or patronizing. This man seemed to be looking through Omar, as if his face were made of glass.
    “Name, please?” Omar said.
    The bearded man raised his sunglasses and looked at Omar, who preferred it when the man had been looking through him. The man smacked his knuckles against the counter again, once for each syllable he spoke. “Cole. Ran. Some. Same name as I had when I told you thirteen seconds ago.” He waved his passport in Omar’s face.
    “Thank you, sir,” Omar said, smiling as he took the passport and swiped it over the reader. Scrolling through the passenger manifest on his monitor, Omar’s fake smile began to hurt his face.
    The bearded man glanced out the tall windows that faced the helipad. The chopper that was about to head to the Obelisk was spooling up its engine. The other passengers were already on board.
    Omar found the man’s name. Normally he would have simply waved him through. But Abdul was watching him now, so he made sure to follow procedure to the letter. He typed the man’s name into the log, then slid a clipboard across the counter. “Signature, please.”
    The man signed his name, picked up his bags, and started walking toward the door. Omar traded a look with Abdul, who rolled his eyes. Even a man like Abdul got tired of kowtowing to pompous white people. Suddenly Omar noticed something on the manifest.
    “Sir?” Omar called.
    The white man stopped and turned. Omar had noticed on the manifest that the man’s retinal signature had been recorded yesterday and he thought this was a great opportunity to impress his boss. “I need to scan your retina.”
    “Huh?” the man demanded, narrowing his eyes.
    Omar pointed at the box on the wall. “Retinal scan, sir. For identification.”
    For a moment the man didn’t move. His jaw worked. “Jesus H. Christ,” he said. But then he walked over, stood before the box, and pressed his eye to the round glass panel. He thumbed the green button. A line of light ran back and forth across his eye.
    Oh, Omar thought. It’s one of thog h¡€se things. He’d seen them in movies before, but he never knew what they were called.
    Suddenly, a high-pitched alarm filled the room. The same irritating beeping sound that went off when somebody swiped their ID card in an area they weren’t cleared to enter.
    Omar instantly regretted that he had tried to impress his boss. He looked to Abdul, who was looking at the bearded man. “Sir, I’m sure this is just a computer glitch, but I need to call my supervisor. So if you’ll please step away from the scanner—”
    But the man stood his ground, as if he were the boss. “I don’t have time for this shit,” he said.
    Abdul eyed Omar, whose chest tightened. Something about the bearded man scared him. Maybe they should just let him go through. Whoever he was, he obviously wasn’t a terrorist. White people were many things, but they weren’t terrorists.
    “Sir, please step away while I call my supervisor.” Abdul picked up the phone.
    What happened next happened so fast that Omar couldn’t quite make sense of it until it was too late. The white man somehow pulled Omar’s Glock from its holster and fired twice. The side of Abdul’s head exploded in a spray of blood and bone.
    Omar stared as Abdul collapsed in a heap, his legs twisted at impossible angles beneath him. The phone receiver he’d been holding a second ago now dangled from its cord, bouncing, until the white man caught it and shoved it at Omar.
    “Call dispatch and tell them it was a false alarm,” the white man said.
    Omar did as