Chapter 457: Duckbill Slug
Charles picked up a pen and paper, sketching as he spoke to Dominique. "Perhaps we could design the muzzle like this, with side openings resembling a duck's bill."
Dominique stared at the sketch, dumbfounded. "I've never seen such an odd muzzle design. What purpose would it serve?"
Charles set down the pen, raising his eyebrows in amusement.
Suddenly, Dominique had an epiphany. "Could it be... to alter the shot spread?"
"Exactly," Charles confirmed. "The side openings would cause the pellets to spread more horizontally rather than in a spherical pattern."
As he spoke, Charles picked up a shotgun and mimicked aiming it at a row of chairs in the conference room.
"Think about it, Dominique."
"In most battlefield scenarios, we're facing a line of soldiers standing in front of us."
"After firing, any pellets that fly upward or downward are wasted. They either soar into the sky or hit the ground."
"Only the pellets that spread horizontally can effectively hit their targets."
Dominique exclaimed, "The side openings would make the pellets spread like a fan instead of a cotton ball."
"An excellent analogy," Charles praised. "Yes, like a fan. It would undoubtedly improve accuracy because the pellets are concentrated toward the target."
Dominique marveled, "Such a small modification can have such a significant impact. All we need to do is cut open the muzzle—"
"No," Charles interrupted. "I'd prefer it to be an attachment, something that can be added or removed, like a bayonet."
Dominique nodded repeatedly. "Sometimes, we might still need the cotton-ball effect instead of the fan."
"Exactly. For instance, during close-quarters combat in an alleyway, shooting through a window or doorway."
In such cases, indiscriminate damage within a confined space would be more desirable than targeting a specific plane.
"But what about range?" Dominique asked eagerly, eyes fixed on Charles as he anticipated a solution.
"That's simple," Charles replied, holding up a shotgun shell. "Its range is limited to 40 meters because it's firing pellets."
Dominique nodded in understanding.
Once fired, pellets tumble in the air, losing energy as they spin and encountering resistance due to their surface area.
"We can't change that," Dominique said with a frown. "Unless we could make them spin like bullets, stabilizing their flight."
This was why rifle barrels were rifled, distinguishing them from smoothbore weapons.
But Charles shook his head, setting the gun aside and picking up a pencil. As he sketched, he said, "Stabilized flight isn't exclusive to bullets. Open your mind, Dominique. Use your imagination, and you'll see... this!"
Charles slid his finished drawing across the table to Dominique.
Dominique's eyes widened in shock. After a long pause, he exclaimed, "Darts! Turning the pellets into small darts! You're a genius, General. Unbelievable! I mean, it's a brilliant idea. It's so simple, yet no one else thought of it! No one!"
"Can it be done?" Charles asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
"Of course, it can," Dominique answered without hesitation.
"Good. I want two hundred of these next month," Charles ordered. "Including the ammunition."
Dominique didn't hesitate, agreeing immediately. "No problem, General. I guarantee it."
These modifications were remarkably straightforward, requiring no significant technical expertise.
All that was needed was to purchase standard shotguns from FN, make slight alterations, and produce the dart ammunition in-house to meet the requirements.
Even so, their impact would be immeasurable, potentially multiplying the range several times over.
The thought excited Dominique. He couldn't wait to begin production on this modified shotgun.
...
The Steed Manor, 16th Arrondissement, Paris
It was the grape harvest season, the end of July when the fruit reached peak ripeness. In previous years, Steed would personally oversee the workers harvesting the vineyard, ensuring the process was conducted to his satisfaction and under strict supervision.
Steed distrusted anything outsourced.
It wasn't just a matter of quality but an added measure of personal security.
This year, however, Steed had no interest in winemaking. He allowed the workers to toil outside while he paced anxiously in his study, leaning on a cane and glancing at the telephone now and then.
"Ring-ring..."
The phone rang, and Steed dashed to it like a man possessed.
Disappointment clouded his face as he picked up the receiver. It wasn't Dominique.
"Yes, Commissioner."
"Another two thousand light machine guns? Saint-Étienne model two?"
"Consider it done. Delivery on schedule."
...
After hanging up, Steed let out a soft sigh. Compared to business, he would have preferred even a scrap of information about Charles' intentions.
Dominique had been out of contact for two days. No calls, no telegrams—he had vanished without a trace.
He had advised Dominique to fly, but the man insisted on taking the train!
Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded outside. Dominique burst through the door, carrying a gun case and sweating profusely. "Father, I'm back! I brought Charles' new design. You're going to be amazed!"
Steed stared at Dominique in disbelief.
This scoundrel knew how anxious he was to learn Charles' plans, yet he hadn't even sent a single telegram! Even if the phone was unavailable, a telegram would have sufficed!
Steed had no idea that Dominique had been so engrossed in the series of ingenious modifications Charles had proposed that he had entirely forgotten about phones and telegrams.
Just as Steed opened his mouth to speak, Dominique cut him off, his excitement brimming over. He expertly placed the gun case on the desk and opened it.
Inside were two shotguns.
"Charles wants us to combine the advantages of these two guns," Dominique said eagerly.
"But what's truly extraordinary is this."
He unfurled a sketch he had drawn on the train and held it up for Steed to see.
"Charles' design is a simple modification that will increase power and range."
"I'm not sure if it will work yet. We need to produce and test it first."
"But Charles is always right. This time will be no different."
Looking at the sketch, Steed suddenly felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Letting out a deep breath, his face lit up with joy.
"Yes, Charles is always right."