Chapter 100

Chapter One Hundred

Pain radiated out from the small of Connor’s back after hunching over for so long. Every millimeter of him stank like sweat-soaked metal, which might be explained by the rust flecks clinging to the surface of pooled sweat.

He set the winch motor down hard enough that the clang drowned out his groan.

To his right, Yemi didn’t even look up from the gearbox he’d been fiddling with for the last half hour, jeweler’s screwdriver scraping and clicking. To the left, Vicente was equally absorbed in disassembling an Orion pistol.

Connor stood and stretched his back. “I hope you two are having better luck.”

The big heavy weapons expert let out a gravelly chuckle. “No way, Boss.”

“Seriously?”

Vicente held out the partially-disassembled pistol. “Take a look.”

Rust discolored the recoil spring and trigger assembly, and hairline fractures ran the length of the slide.

Connor returned the weapon. “How is that possible? I saw these guns yesterday. They were operational.”