Fallen Honor: A Jesse McDermitt Novel (Caribbean Adventure Series Book 7) (35 page)

GT was rubbing his right thigh. He’d banged it on the unpadded door more times than he could remember. “Where the hell are we?”

“About ten miles west of Florida City,” Mary-Beth replied.

They rode in silence until they pulled into the parking lot at
Brown’s Guns
and climbed out of the truck. GT strode quickly to the passenger door of the van as his accountant opened it and stepped out.

“You got the money I told you to bring?” GT asked.

“Forty thousand in nonsequential small bills, just like you said,” Conner replied. “What happened to you, GT?”

“Been playing fucking Tarzan in the swamps,” GT growled. He turned to Austin and said, “Please tell me you got A/C inside.”

“Y’all come on in,” Mary-Beth said, leading the way to the front door and unlocking it.

Once inside, GT turned to the man who had been driving the van. “You bring me some clothes, Malik?”

The tall, broad-shouldered man handed him the bag he was holding. “Where’s Erik, Mister Bradley?”

Taking the bag, GT said, “Erik’s dead. Killed by a cracker in Key West.” Then he turned around to Austin. “You got a shower here, brother?”

“That man weren’t no cracker. I’m a cracker. And I ain’t your damned brother. There’s a shower in back, first door on the left.”

Conner and the five black men stared at Austin, confused, as GT went toward the back of the store. Austin went behind the counter and picked up a Colt 1911 that he kept there, knowing without checking that it was loaded and a round chambered. He thrust it in his jeans behind his back and came back around the counter.

“There’s a sort of break room in back,” he said to Malik. “You guys can relax there for a while. I arranged for some heavy-caliber guns for your boss. Better’n any of the huntin’ rifles I sell here. Till the guy gets here with ’em, y’all keep your paws off the merchandise.”

Malik took a step toward Austin. “Who the hell are you?”

Austin met his gaze, his steely eyes never faltering, and his voice dropped to a menacing snarl. “I’m the cracker that can feed your parts to the gators, boy.”

Seconds ticked by as the two men glared at one another. Finally, Malik shrugged. “You wanna call yourself a cracker, who am I to argue?” He turned to his entourage and said, “Come on.”

The five men moved toward the door to the back room, but Conner held back. When they were through the door, Conner said, “I assume you’re Mister Brown?”

“Yeah, I am. And you are?”

“Chase Conner, Mister Brown. I handle Mister Bradley’s finances. What happened down in Key West?”

Austin clapped an arm around the smaller man and said, “Long story.” Then, leading him toward the back room, he added, “Fortunately, we got about an hour.”

Once GT finished in the shower and was dressed in clean clothes, Austin got cleaned up himself, leaving Mary-Beth to keep an eye on their guests. Then he sent her home, telling her that he’d stay until the sale was made and he could send GT and his crew on down the road.

An hour later, sitting on the stool behind the sales counter while cleaning an old German Mauser rifle, Austin saw the lights of a car pull into the parking lot. He quickly went through the door to the back room. Most of the men were asleep in lounge chairs, or watching an old episode of
Dragnet
on the little TV. Austin nudged GT’s shoulder and said, “He’s here.”

GT tapped Conner’s shoulder, asleep in a chair next to him. When Conner opened his eyes, GT jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s do this, then you can fly on back to Pittsburgh.”

As the two men stood up, Malik started to rise. “Wait here,” GT said. “We don’t want to spook the guy.”

The two men followed Austin back to the sales floor, just as a light tapping came from the front window, which ran the width of the store and was covered with iron bars. Austin went to the door and looked at the man on the other side. He was smiling.

“You Dinkle?” Austin asked through the glass.

“Hinkle, mate,” the man answered in an Australian accent. “Donnie Hinkle. Mister Maggio said you might be interested in buying something.”

Austin unlocked the door and opened it. The man named Hinkle stepped inside. “You must be Mister Brown, right?”

Hinkle carried a single hard-shell rifle bag. Austin looked out the door at what looked like a brand-new bright red Mustang. Still holding the door open, he looked back at Hinkle. “Need help carrying the rest in?”

Hinkle stopped at an empty display table and placed the rifle bag on it. “Oh, I only brought the one, mate. I don’t know you from Adam, but Mister Maggio vouched for ya, so ’ave a look.”

GT started to say something, but Austin cut him off. “Mister Bradley here is buying. I’m just his advisor, ya might say. I own this place. Maggio said you’d be deliverin’ a case.”

Smiling, Hinkle took a step away from the bag on the table. Lifting his arms wide out to the sides, his coat fell open and Austin instantly recognized the Sig Sauer P226 tucked neatly in a cross draw holster in his pants. “Ya might say Mister Maggio is my advisor. But I make my own deals, my own way, mate.”

“How soon can you deliver the rest?” GT said.

Hinkle slowly lowered his arms. “I
can
deliver them in twenty minutes, but I won’t. Mister Bradley, is it?”

“GT Bradley, from Pittsburgh,” he answered, as though the name carried weight all its own.

“Never been to Pittsburgh, mate. I’ll get right to the point. You want eight of what’s in that bag, it’ll cost ya fifteen even, but I never deal with people I don’t know but in the broad light of day, somewhere private.” Looking around the sales floor, he smiled and added, “Someplace where I’m not outgunned a thousand to one. Crikey, you got a lot of firepower here!” His eyes settled on the German rifle Austin had been cleaning. “That a model 98 Karabiner?”

“Yeah,” Austin said, closing and locking the door. “Let’s see what you got.”

“Before we start any negotiations,” Hinkle said, turning toward Austin and running both fingers through his sandy hair, “I guess I ought to tell you something.”

Austin waited, watching the man closely, when he saw a red dot appear on GT’s forehead.

“We talk right here in your storefront. Is that acceptable to you, mate?”

The red dot on GT’s head disappeared. Austin wanted desperately to turn around and look out the window, but knew he wouldn’t see anything. He seemed to come to a decision and walked slowly toward the table. “Sure, Hinkle. Open the case.”

Hinkle stepped slowly toward the table. “Let’s see the money first. I don’t want to be wasting my time.”

Looking at GT, Austin nodded and GT pointed to the table. Conner stepped forward, the black briefcase in his hand. Conner’s hands were shaking as he placed the case on the table and opened it. His voice cracked slightly as he said, “There’s more than enough here to cover all expenses.”

GT quietly added, “But not a nickel leaves here, unless I have what I came here for.”

Hinkle slowly opened the rifle case and stepped back. “What you’re buying are eight Russian-made SGL21 AK-103 rifles, chambered for seven-point-six-two-by-thirty-nine-millimeter cartridges. They were converted and rebuilt by Arsenal firearms. Each one has a riveted bullet guide, Tapco G2 trigger assembly, threaded muzzle, bayonet lugs on both the gas block and front sight, and an ACE Limited side folding buttstock.”

Hinkle slowly stepped away from the table as Austin picked up the rifle. He gave it a quick cursory inspection, checked the chamber and slowly raised it to his shoulder, the muzzle pointing away from everyone and away from the window. He didn’t want the sniper outside to get the wrong impression.

Lowering the rifle, he placed the butt against his hip, his right hand on the bolt, and looked at Hinkle. “May I?”

“Please do,” Hinkle replied confidently.

In quick easy movements, Austin flipped down the safety and ratcheted the bolt back, releasing it with a crisp snap of finely machined steel. With his thumb on the hammer, he pulled it back slightly and removed the dust covers, then quickly removed both the recoil spring and bolt carrier group. His movements were practiced and fluid, having torn down AKs thousands of times.

Inspecting the trigger assembly and chamber, he quickly reassembled the rifle, looking at both the spring and bolt assembly before putting them back in.

“Not a penny over ten grand,” Austin said. “For eight, just like this one.”

“Did I mention each one comes with four mags and a hundred rounds?”

“Look around ya,
mate
,” Austin chided. “Mags and ammo I got plenty of.”

“I can come down to twelve, Mister Brown. You obviously know the weapon, so you know that each one’ll retail for an easy fifteen hundred, without the mags and ammo.”

“This here ain’t no retail transaction. Eleven.”

Hinkle glanced over at GT and grinned. “You picked a good advisor, Mister Bradley. Eleven thousand it is.”

“When and where?” GT asked.

“Sunrise,” Hinkle replied. “Somewhere private.”

“Call Maggio,” Austin said. “Ask him if he can give you a lift to our usual spot.”

Leaning to his left and looking out the front windows of the shop, Hinkle clapped his hands together. “Got my own car, mate. Just give me the address. I’ll be there.”

“Can’t get to it by car. He’ll fly you out. We’ve used the same spot a bunch of times. Tell him there’s an extra five grand if you can give Mister Bradley and five of his men a ride to Key West.”

“Key West, eh? This wouldn’t have anything to do with what happened down there last night, would it?”

“Probably best if you don’t know anything more than you do now,” GT said.

“Mind if I step outside to make the call?” Hinkle said, heading toward the door.

Austin unlocked and opened it for him. Hinkle went to the back of his car and turned around. Holding a cellphone in his hand, he waited until Austin closed the door before dialing.

Austin slowly walked back to the table. With his back to the door, he said in a low voice, “Don’t look at me and don’t say a word. The man has a sniper outside somewhere. I’m sure he’s on the up and up. Mister Maggio’s a good man. He just has the guy outside so he don’t get taken advantage of.”

“
I
woke with a start, as Travis put a hand on my shoulder. “They took the bait,” he said. “I spoke to Donnie a little while ago.”

I stood up and stretched. “What time is it?”

“Oh one hundred. Sunrise is in less than six hours.”

I thought for a moment. “Did you get the takedown team moving? It’ll take them an hour to get here to pick us up and then insert us at least an hour before sunrise.”

“Pick us up? They can be there from Homestead in a lot less time. Why do they need to come here?”

“I’m going. You probably shouldn’t, but I need to see this through.”

“Okay, but Scott and Germ will go with you.”

“Then have the chopper bring two extra ghillie suits. There won’t even be a tree stump to hide behind out there in the Glades. Oh, and bring plenty of bug spray.”

Scott and Germ were lying in two other bunks in the cramped little office. Without opening his eyes, Scott said, “Maybe rebreathers would be better, then?”

“Good idea,” I said. “Black wetsuits and rebreathers. That water’s so dark, we won’t be visible just below the surface even from a few feet away, and so far, mosquitoes haven’t adapted to underwater life.”

“You three get some more rest, then,” Travis said. “I’ll have the chopper arrive here in two hours. Another of our own pilots will be flying the Maggio bird, along with Donnie and two others from Bravo Team.”

Scott and Germ both rolled over, their backs to us, and I motioned Travis to follow me outside. Carl had moved one of the large commercial coffeemakers out to the table and I poured two cups. The two of us sat down and discussed contingency plans.

During his short talk with Donnie, when the Aussie was pretending to talk to Nick, Travis had instructed him to tell Brown that he’d fly to the spot that Maggio’s pilot knew with two other men besides the pilot and they’d arrive at zero seven hundred, just after sunrise. Donnie was to tell Brown that he could bring only himself, Bradley, the accountant and no more than two others. He would also tell Brown that Maggio had agreed to have the chopper fly Bradley and his crew to Key West, but not until after they returned to Brown’s store. It didn’t have room for that many people.