Read Online Tales of the Red Panda: The Android Assassins by Gregg Taylor - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gregg Taylor
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in
time to see that the kid from the Telegraph had actually written that down. Both men struggled to contain themselves.
Winnick looked pained and glared
at the two reporters. “Gentlemen of the press,” he began again, “no doubt you
have many questions about the grave events of earlier today. We can begin with
any questions you might have before we tour the scene.”
The kid's hand shot up into the air. Peters interrupted.
“For Pete's sake, Captain, can we skip the Socratic method today? We've all
been upstaged by the Midnight Massacre, let's just accept it and move on.”
Winnick looked sour, but he seemed
to nod a little and took a deep breath before speaking again. “At one o'clock
this afternoon a test commenced before a panel of investors and representatives
of our federal government. Harrison Arms Manufacturing was to conduct a display
of the capabilities of their new armored transport, the HM-111B, nicknamed the
'Wildcat'. The transport was designed to move men and machines through areas of
live fire and extreme peril with the greatest possible degree of safety.
Harrison Arms president Quincy Harrison made a short speech of welcome and the
test began with some simple maneuvers. Almost immediately the machine began to
emit plumes of thick, black smoke, and then shook as a series of explosions
tore through it. Police services are continuing our investigation, but it
appears that the blasts originated within the fuel system. All four members of
the test crew were killed, but they are not being identified until their next
of kin have been notified. I will now take any questions before a brief
opportunity for pictures.”
The kid's hand shot up again. Bailey was having none of
this. “ Winnick , can we do questions while we walk?
It's not like you can't manage the crowd.”
Winnick was flustered, but he
agreed. Two junior officers moved in to remove the barricade, but Peters and
Bailey just walked around it.
“Have investigators ruled out the possibility of sabotage?”
the kid asked.
“Nothing has been ruled out at this time, though it is
considered unlikely,” Winnick growled in his most
impressive fashion.
“Why is that?” The kid was finding it tough to write and
walk at the same time.
“The device had a full check and a clean bill of health from
a dozen mechanics immediately before the test. Any sabotage would have had to
occur from within the machine while it was in operation, and that would
certainly have been a suicide mission.” Winnick was
pleased with this line of questioning.
“Will Mister Harrison be available for questions?” the kid
asked.
“You'll have to communicate with his office, but until such
time as the police investigation is closed, Quincy Harrison will not be making
a statement to the press.”
The small group was nearly to a pavilion beside a
grandstand, beyond which was an open field. Peters could smell whatever was in
that field, and they would be close enough to see it in a moment.
“Were any of the spectators injured?” The kid didn't let up.
“No, but several were overcome by the smoke.”
“Are any of them available for questions?”
“No, but we will have a list of witnesses for you to, follow
up with as you see fit,” Winnick said as they turned
the corner. The kid seemed pleased.
Jack Peters let a low whistle escape as he spied the twisted
mass of metal in the middle of the green field. The kid was right about one thing, on another day this would be front-page news. He
began to walk closer.
“I must ask that you not proceed any closer than this for
photographs, Mister Peters,” Winnick scolded. “This
device is considered secret by the Ministry.”
“Or what's left of it is anyway,” Bailey growled, wishing
he'd bothered to bring a camera.
“Hey Winnick ,” Peters pointed, “ that bit there, where the blast punched a hole right through
the armor, you're saying a fuel explosion did that?”
“That is what our investigators believe at
time to see that the kid from the Telegraph had actually written that down. Both men struggled to contain themselves.
Winnick looked pained and glared
at the two reporters. “Gentlemen of the press,” he began again, “no doubt you
have many questions about the grave events of earlier today. We can begin with
any questions you might have before we tour the scene.”
The kid's hand shot up into the air. Peters interrupted.
“For Pete's sake, Captain, can we skip the Socratic method today? We've all
been upstaged by the Midnight Massacre, let's just accept it and move on.”
Winnick looked sour, but he seemed
to nod a little and took a deep breath before speaking again. “At one o'clock
this afternoon a test commenced before a panel of investors and representatives
of our federal government. Harrison Arms Manufacturing was to conduct a display
of the capabilities of their new armored transport, the HM-111B, nicknamed the
'Wildcat'. The transport was designed to move men and machines through areas of
live fire and extreme peril with the greatest possible degree of safety.
Harrison Arms president Quincy Harrison made a short speech of welcome and the
test began with some simple maneuvers. Almost immediately the machine began to
emit plumes of thick, black smoke, and then shook as a series of explosions
tore through it. Police services are continuing our investigation, but it
appears that the blasts originated within the fuel system. All four members of
the test crew were killed, but they are not being identified until their next
of kin have been notified. I will now take any questions before a brief
opportunity for pictures.”
The kid's hand shot up again. Bailey was having none of
this. “ Winnick , can we do questions while we walk?
It's not like you can't manage the crowd.”
Winnick was flustered, but he
agreed. Two junior officers moved in to remove the barricade, but Peters and
Bailey just walked around it.
“Have investigators ruled out the possibility of sabotage?”
the kid asked.
“Nothing has been ruled out at this time, though it is
considered unlikely,” Winnick growled in his most
impressive fashion.
“Why is that?” The kid was finding it tough to write and
walk at the same time.
“The device had a full check and a clean bill of health from
a dozen mechanics immediately before the test. Any sabotage would have had to
occur from within the machine while it was in operation, and that would
certainly have been a suicide mission.” Winnick was
pleased with this line of questioning.
“Will Mister Harrison be available for questions?” the kid
asked.
“You'll have to communicate with his office, but until such
time as the police investigation is closed, Quincy Harrison will not be making
a statement to the press.”
The small group was nearly to a pavilion beside a
grandstand, beyond which was an open field. Peters could smell whatever was in
that field, and they would be close enough to see it in a moment.
“Were any of the spectators injured?” The kid didn't let up.
“No, but several were overcome by the smoke.”
“Are any of them available for questions?”
“No, but we will have a list of witnesses for you to, follow
up with as you see fit,” Winnick said as they turned
the corner. The kid seemed pleased.
Jack Peters let a low whistle escape as he spied the twisted
mass of metal in the middle of the green field. The kid was right about one thing, on another day this would be front-page news. He
began to walk closer.
“I must ask that you not proceed any closer than this for
photographs, Mister Peters,” Winnick scolded. “This
device is considered secret by the Ministry.”
“Or what's left of it is anyway,” Bailey growled, wishing
he'd bothered to bring a camera.
“Hey Winnick ,” Peters pointed, “ that bit there, where the blast punched a hole right through
the armor, you're saying a fuel explosion did that?”
“That is what our investigators believe at
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