Free The Vets (Stephen Leather Thrillers) by Stephen Leather

canyon stage was the worst, he kept running out of ammunition before reaching the far end and enemy forces ripped him apart while he was helpless. The electronic images had no mercy. There was no possibility of surrender. It was kill or be killed.
    There was no one on the video game when Pimlott and his girlfriend arrived at the arcade so he told her to stand in front of it while he got change. Pimlott had loved video arcades ever since he’d first been taken into one by his father when he was just six years old. Now he spent almost all of his spare cash on the machines and often visited one of his favourite arcades before morning lectures. He was a second-year law student and he always rebutted claims that he was addicted to the games by arguing that he needed something to counterbalance all the reading he had to do. He seemed to spend half his life with his nose buried in law books, and that couldn’t be healthy, could it? He didn’t have time to waste playing football or tennis or any of the pursuits that the university’s jocks devoted themselves to. He barely had enough time to satisfy Suzanne, though at least she appeared to share his enthusiasm for arcades. He had only been going out with the pretty blonde for three weeks so he wasn’t sure yet if she was faking it. Most of his former girlfriends had pretended to enjoy his daily visits to the arcades but had soon begun nagging him to go see a movie or a ball game instead once they realised that it wasn’t a temporary fad.
    He hoped that Suzanne wouldn’t go the same way. She had the cutest butt and the best legs and, swear to God, she loved to play Nintendo while they were in bed. That had been a first, a definite first.
    The change booth was squashed between an air-hockey table and a bright red motorcycle mounted in front of a video screen. Kid’s stuff, Pimlott reckoned. He opened his wallet and took out a ten dollar bill.
    The guy in the glass-sided cubicle was sitting back in his chair reading a copy of True Detective , a photograph of a buxom blonde in a black bikini wielding a large knife on the cover. He had unkempt light brown hair and a beard that seemed to be the result of neglect rather than an attempt to cultivate facial hair. It grew high up his cheeks and obscured most of his face, giving him the look of an emaciated Old English sheepdog. He was wearing wrap-around black sunglasses so Pimlott couldn’t tell if he’d seen him or not, so he coughed quietly. The man slowly turned a page of the magazine and continued to read.
    “Hey, buddy, any chance of some change here?” said Pimlott.
    The man lifted his head to look at Pimlott and Pimlott could see himself reflected in both lenses. He waved the banknote and his two reflections waved it back.
    “Back for more punishment, College Boy?” said the man, putting the magazine in his lap.
    “Yeah,” said Pimlott, impatiently.
    “You must have put, what, fifty bucks in so far this week? Am I right, or what?”
    Pimlott felt that his ability on the machine was being questioned and his cheeks reddened.
    “Hey man, just give me change, okay?” He thrust the ten dollar bill through the semicircular hole in the glass.
    “You want the whole ten bucks in quarters, College Boy?” asked the man, grinning. It wasn’t a pleasant smile, it was loaded with sarcasm and bitterness and Pimlott knew that the eyes behind the dark lenses had no humour in them.
    “Yeah. I’d like it all in quarters,” answered Pimlott. “Please.”
    The guy sighed and leant forward to take the banknote. He put it in a drawer and pushed across two piles of quarters. “Think that’ll be enough?” he asked.
    “What do you mean?” said Pimlott.
    The man leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the shelf so that Pimlott was looking at the soles of a pair of old brown cowboy boots with silver tips. “Seems to me that the way you’re going, that’ll only last you ten minutes or so. Maybe you ought to save yourself a trip