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Foreman picked up the Sig Sauer. He turned it so it caught the sunlight. He admired it before handing it over, stroking the checkered black grip, making a show of its beauty. He knew McKinley liked the gun and had deliberately waited before giving it to him.
“That’s the deluxe Sig right there,” said Foreman. “Forty-five with the eight-shot magazine. Double action, slide stays open after the last shot so you know to reload. Trigger guard’s squared off, like them combat guns. I got it tricked out with all the options. Nickel slide, and those Siglite sights for the nighttime.”
“Nice,” said McKinley. “What you want for it?”
“Nine hundred, for you.”
“For me? Shit.”
“I could sell you a Davis for a lot cheaper, I guess. I figured, you driving a Mercedes, you don’t want to be carrying the kind of gun be in the glove box of a Neon.”
“True. But that don’t mean I’m go
“Nine hundred is damn near close to my cost. And I’m go
“What about another magazine?”
“I got one. But you’re go
“Just the bullets, then, man.”
McKinley sighted down the barrel, then inspected the piece. The truth was, he knew as little about guns as he knew about cars. But he always ordered the most expensive item on the menu. Man had to show off the rewards of his hard work, otherwise none of it meant shit.
McKinley placed the gun back on the tray. He poured some beer into a pilsner glass and had a long swig. “That young boy downstairs, he makin’ a buy for you today?”
“Yeah, he’s leaving soon.”
“I’m lookin’ for somethin’ on the low-end side. A revolver, maybe, for one of my troops.”
Foreman had pla
“I can do that,” said Foreman.
“Might have some trouble coming up; want to make sure all my people are ready.”
Foreman nodded. He didn’t want to talk about Dewayne Durham if that’s where this was going. He had always stayed at a distance during these wars, and he was determined to remain neutral in this latest conflict.
“Might need you to deliver it to me, later on,” said McKinley.
“Prefer to do it right here,” said Foreman in a friendly way. “You can always send one of your boys, you don’t want to come back out yourself.”
“You don’t want to get involved, huh?”
Foreman shrugged. He looked over at Montgomery, who was kind of staring off, not paying much attention to the two of them.
“You ain’t afraid of Dewayne Durham, are you?” said McKinley.
“I sell to everyone,” said Foreman. “I told you that the first time I met you. The thing is, I wouldn’t want anyone thinking I was taking sides. Someone like Durham might see me over at your place on Yuma, get the wrong idea. And why wouldn’t he see me? He ain’t but across the alley. Wouldn’t be good for my business.”
“He’s go
As you’ll go down, too. You all do. And you ain’t all that special, either, thinkin’ you’re the only one’s go
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Or maybe I should tip on back here,” said McKinley, “seein’ as how I missed your woman. I do like to look at her.”
Foreman felt his face grow warm at the implied threat. He knew of McKinley’s violent reputation with women.
“You’re always welcome,” said Foreman, forcing a smile. “I’ll call you later, soon as my boy comes back with that piece.”
“Here’s your money,” said McKinley. He rested the beer glass on the tray and peeled off nine hundred-dollar bills from a roll. He holstered the Sig in the waistband of his warm-up pants and dropped the matching top out over the band. Montgomery picked up a box of bullets without asking if he should.
“I’ll meet you out front with that brick,” said Foreman.
“Nice doin’ business with you.”
Foreman shook McKinley’s sweaty hand. “You too, dawg.”
McKinley head-motioned Montgomery. “Let’s go, Mike.”
STRANGE and Qui
“They’re leaving,” said Qui
“Fat boy got his new gun,” said Strange, “so I guess they’re done. Least we know now what’s going on in that house. I’ll be giving Blue the plate numbers off muscleman’s Caddy. If I’m guessing right, that’s his ride. I’m sure the MPD and the PG County boys, not to mention the ATF, will be happy to get a local arms dealer off the street.”
“Why are they hanging around?”
“Maybe that salesman’s go
Qui
“McKinley and his boy know my car. I got away with tailin’ him a little while ago, but I was lucky. I’m go
“What are you go
“I was thinkin’ I’d take her home, to Janine’s, I mean, for a couple of days. Until me and Ives can get her someplace else.”
“Look, I got some business to take care of,” said Qui
“Still looking for Sue’s runaway?”
Qui
“Fine. I know you don’t want to get involved in the Granville case. But this here is something else; you’ll be doing one of those good things you been wanting to do. Just make sure Devra’s all right.”
“What’re you go
“Follow that young couple, they move out of here. Like I said, I’m curious.”
“Leave your cell on,” said Qui
Strange shook Qui
Chapter 28
LOOKING at the needle on his gas gauge, Strange began to worry that he was going to run out of fuel. He’d been driving for a half hour now, following the Avalon, and as yet the young man behind the wheel had shown no signs of nearing a destination.
The Avalon was on Route 1 in Virginia, heading south. Strange had tailed him and the woman on the Beltway, over the Wilson Bridge, and onto 1, at that point called Richmond Highway.
To Strange, Virginia’s Route 1 looked the same as Maryland’s stretch of Route 1 from Laurel to Baltimore, a blacktop badland now dominated by chain and family-style restaurants and big-box retailers but still littered with trick-pad motels, last-stand truck stops, and drinker’s bars. Confederate flag stickers appeared on some cars the farther south he drove, “Tradition, Not Hatred” written below the stars and bars. Strange realized just how far off his turf he had come.
The road had stoplights but was straight and heavily trafficked, the easiest kind of tail job. Being made wasn’t the problem, though. The problem was keeping up, as the boy was a lane changer with a lead foot.
Strange listened to Let’s Stay Together, front to back, on the trip. The one had Green looking like a high school kid on the cover, “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart” a highlight of the set. Ordinarily he’d enjoy a drive like this, the window down, the Reverend Al at his peak on the box. But he was worrying about the gas gauge, and the Stokes girl, and Qui