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His eyes met hers, and there was a laugh in them. “Cop toys only. They’re illegal, lieutenant, even for collectors.” He pressed a button. Against the far wall a hologram flashed, so lifelike that Eve blinked and braced before she caught herself.
“Excellent image,” she murmured, studying the big, bull-shouldered man holding a weapon she couldn’t quite identify.
“He’s a replica of a typical twentieth-century thug. That’s an AK-forty-seven he’s holding.”
“Right.” She narrowed her eyes at it. It was more dramatic than in the photos and videos she’d studied. “Very popular with urban gangs and drug dealers of the era.”
“An assault weapon,” Roarke murmured. “Fashioned to kill. Once I activate, if he hits target, you’d feel a slight jolt. Low level electrical shock, rather than the much more dramatic insult of a bullet. Want to try it?”
“You go first.”
“Fine.” Roarke activated. The hologram lunged forward, swinging up his weapon. The sound effects kicked in instantly.
The thunder of noise had Eve jerking back a step. Snarled obscenities, street sounds, the terrifyingly rapid explosion of gunfire.
She watched, slack jawed, as the image spurted what looked entirely too much like blood. The wide chest seemed to erupt with it as the man flew back. The weapon spiraled out of his hand. Then both vanished.
“Jesus.”
A little surprised that he’d been showing off, like a kid at an arcade, Roarke lowered his weapon. “It hardly makes the point of what something like this can do to flesh and bone if the image isn’t realistic.”
“Guess not.” She had to swallow. “Did he hit you?”
“Not that time. Of course, one on one, and when you can fully anticipate your opponent, doesn’t make it very difficult to win your round.”
Roarke pushed more buttons, and the dead gunman was back, whole and ready to rock. Roarke took his stance with the ease and automation, Eve thought, of a veteran cop. Or, to borrow his word, a thug.
Abruptly, the image lunged, and as Roarke fired, other holograms appeared in rapid succession. A man with some sort of wicked looking handgun, a snarling woman aiming a long barreled weapon—a .44 Magnum, Eve decided—a small, terrified child carrying a ball.
They flashed and fired, cursed, screamed, bled. When it was over, the child was sitting on the ground weeping, all alone.
“A random choice like that’s more difficult,” Roarke told her. “Caught my shoulder.”
“What?” Eve blinked, focused on him again. “Your shoulder.”
He grinned at her. “Don’t worry, darling. It’s just a flesh wound.”
Her heart was thudding in her ears, no matter how ridiculous she told herself was her reaction. “Hell of a toy, Roarke. Real fun and games time. Do you play often?”
“Now and again. Ready to try it?”
If she could handle a session with VR, Eve decided, she could handle this. “Yeah, run another random pattern.”
“That’s what I admire about you, lieutenant.” Roarke selected ammo, loaded fresh. “You jump right in. Let’s try a dry run first.”
He brought up a simple target, circles and a bull’s-eye. He stepped behind her, putting the .38 in her hands, his over them. He pressed his cheek to hers. “You have to sight it, as it doesn’t sense heat and movement as your weapon does.” He adjusted her arms until he was satisfied. “When you’re ready to fire, you want to squeeze the trigger, not pump it. It’s going to jerk a bit. It’s not as smooth or as silent as your laser.”
“I’ve got that,” she muttered. It was foolish to be susceptible to his hands over hers,
the press of his body, the smell of him. “You’re crowding me.”
He turned his head, just enough to have his lips brushing up to her earlobe. It was innocently unpierced, rather sweet, like a child’s.
“I know. You need to brace yourself more than you’re used to. Your reaction will be to flinch. Don’t.”
“I don’t flinch.” To prove it, she squeezed the trigger. Her arms jerked, annoying her. She shot again, and a third time, missing the heart of the target by less than an inch. “Christ, you feel it, don’t you?” She rolled her shoulders, fascinated by the way they sang in response to the weapon in her hands.
“It makes it more personal. You’ve got a good eye.” He was impressed, but his tone was mild. “Of course, it’s one thing to shoot at a circle, another to shoot at a body. Even a reproduction.”
