Read Online The Phoenix Reckoning (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 6) by Richard Sanders - Free Book Online Page A

protective in an actual fight. For that matter the submachine guns, despite their high-capacity magazines, were an older make and Nimoux knew that—if they weren’t properly and regularly maintained—were prone to jamming. He sincerely hoped the rest of the Roscos’ defense consisted of weapons and armor a bit more substantial.
    “I’ve heard of you,” said the leader, pointing his cigar at him. “You’re some kind of legend, the way they tell it.”
    “They do me a disservice,” said Nimoux. “I’m just a normal man, doing his job like everybody else.”
    The leader gave him a scrutinizing look then smiled. “Modesty. I like that. I think we’re going to get along just fine. The name’s Grady, Grady Rosco,” he shifted his cigar to his left hand then thrust out his right. Nimoux shook it. “Good,” said Grady. “Now that introductions are out of the way, if you gentlemen will please follow us, we’ll take you to the command center .”
    With a wave, Grady and his escort moved toward the terminal’s exit. Nimoux walked alongside Grady while the rest of his team followed.
    “A station like this has a command center?” asked Nimoux. As they exited the terminal and entered an empty hub-like room that branched into a series of wide corridors, Nimoux got the distinct impression that the station had been cobbled together out of decommissioned starships and spare parts.
    “Well, we do today,” said Grady. He led them down one of the corridors and, after winding a few corners, they entered a large gambling hall emblazoned with the words The Rodeo Den . Although the vast gambling hall was deserted, the smell of smoke remained pungent. Grady took them inside a back room; it had caged teller windows and clearly was meant for handlers to exchange Q with chips during business hours. Nimoux also noted a series of safes along the side wall, and one on the floor facing upwards. Above it had been placed a four legged table, and on its surface were various documents, including what looked like schematics for the entire station.
    “And here we are,” said Grady. “This is the most defensible spot in the whole casino.”
    Nimoux glanced around, noting the protective measures which, with its metal caging and steel door, at best, seemed designed to prevent a hostile patron from robbing the house. There were also red-button alarm switches all along the bottom of the forward-facing panel, no doubt so a distressed employee could call for help, but Nimoux knew those would be of no use to him today. In fact, the entire room made him uncomfortable, it felt more like a deathtrap than a defense bunker, and it violated Calvin’s orders to make certain he had an escape route to the hangar. Once they shut that steel door, he wouldn’t.
    Still, he had to work with what he had.
    “Come take a look at this stuff,” said Grady.
    Nimoux approached the table and began sorting through the documents, mentally cataloguing them. Most would not be useful, however the schematics—which seemed very comprehensive—would be invaluable. “This,” he said, pointing to the primary blueprint, “this is good.”
    “I thought you might like that,” said Grady with a smirk. He took a long drag of his cigar and then breathed out the disgusting smoke as if he’d just tasted a small sliver of heaven. Despite trying not to, Nimoux coughed.
    “Oh, where are my manners?” said Grady. “Would you like one?” he drew a pack of cigars from seemingly nowhere and thrust them toward Nimoux. Nimoux, still coughing, raised a hand to reject the cigars.
    “And none for my men, either,” he said, as soon as he was able. Much to the chagrin of First Lieutenant Ferreiro—who’d been extending out a hand—and possibly the others.
    “What about drinks?” asked Grady.
    Nimoux spoke before his men had a chance to. “Nothing for me. And nothing alcoholic for my men. I need them to have their wits.”
    “Okay then, how about some fresh brewed