poked at the charred remains of what had been their dinner with the blade of his knife, shaking his head. “Damn shame.” “Got that right.” Ryan had made his way back to the rest of the group to find them all puzzling over the unusual fight. Mildred arched an eyebrow at both of them. “You talking about the turkey or that paramilitary force we just encountered?” “Bit of both.” Ryan exchanged a glance with J.B., who nodded. “Someone’s got a base of operations here, and is supplying people with quality weapons—” he indicated the pile of blasters and magazines he’d taken from the bodies on his way out of the sniper’s building “—and the training to use them well.” “Too well.” J.B. was methodically sorting the pile of weapons into types, then calibers. “Wide range, from an AK-47 to a Webley revolver—wonder where that came from?—but all are well-tended, oiled and everything.” He hefted the longblaster Ryan had brought back. “Remington 700, composite stock, 10x sight, very clean.
