rugged face marred by a sardonic smile.
“So you must be my new partner, huh?” he asked, his eyes roaming over Deidre. Slater was known around the precinct as a ladies’ man and though she couldn't deny he had a little charisma, Deidre wasn't about to be taken in by some hotshot with an attitude. “So what did you do to get transferred to this...clown car division or whatever? I made a pass at the chief's daughter at the last Ball we had. Worth it.”
“I didn't do anything, Slater,” Deidre spat. “I'm the one who planned and developed this ‘clown car division’ and you should count yourself lucky I requested you. An assignment like this could make your career. Or end it if you screw it up.”
Slater's eyes continued to slide over Lt. Deidre Hollands body, his pupils gliding back and forth over her ample, yet proportioned, curves. She played herself off like some kind of ice queen but if there was anybody in the city with a rep for being a major defroster, it was Jack Slater.
“Requested me, eh?” Slater asked as he walked past her, finally taking the chance to look over the state-of-the-art hangar they were in. A team of eggheads fussed over a bank of computers that dominated one wall and a pile of what looked to be jet engine parts sat in various crates that were in the process of being unloaded by a team of surly looking mechanics. “And why would you do that?”
“Because despite your poor choice of dance partners your experience with the Swift Response Unit has given you the training I need for my project.”
“What is all this anyway?” Slater waved his hand so that his question encompassed the entire hangar. “I recognize some this stuff, but...”
“This operation is my baby, Slater. It's a combination of high tech recognizance equipment, jet age aviation innovations, and good ol' fashioned elbow grease. It's the future of law enforcement and will be the defining moment of 20th century police work.”
“Nice sales pitch. You should sell encyclopedias.”
“Come with me. I'll show you exactly what I'm selling. You'll agree soon enough that it's more than just a pile of dusty old encyclopedias.”
Slater followed Deidre out of the hangar. For a moment, dazzled by the sudden shift from gloomy hangar to bright daylight, Slater couldn't quite make out what he was seeing. Then, as his eyes adjusted to sheer magnitude of what rose before him, he let out an incredulous gasp. He stood there for a full minute, his mouth agape with wonder. Now it was Deidre's turn for a smug smile. The sudden blast of a jet engine snapped Slater out of his reverie.
“It certainly is. Welcome to the future, Slater. Welcome to Operation Rising Justice!”
Slater took a tentative step toward the looming hot air balloon that was the future of law enforcement technology.
Maurice Paulson, the kingpin of pot, was shaking with rage as he loomed over the man who