A God in Ruins - Leon Uris [113]
“Semper Fi, buddy,” Quinn said.
“Semper Fi,” Appleton said.
Quinn grabbed the stale bread on Dawn’s desk and bit a hunk off it, starved. In a moment Harry Chin spread out a map of the exhibition hall, and they scoured it with magnifying glasses. Quinn went down the list.
“Bingo! Murtha, Chad, Knoxville, Tennessee, plastic handguns and paraphernalia. Side booth on west wall, stall number seven hundred twenty-three.
“Dawn, I need a half dozen detectives in three two-man teams to locate Murtha’s pickup truck. I know we’ve gotten burned with signals from the big truck, but can you slap something on Murtha’s vehicle to give off a radio signal?”
“I’ve got a dandy, and it will work.”
“All right, your three CBI cars will follow Murtha some time after ten-thirty. As soon as his signal gives us a general direction, I can set Yancey’s team into motion. Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute!” Quinn said, slapping his forehead. “Position a plainclothes pair in an unmarked car near Friehoff’s Furniture Outlet so he has a bead on 10101 West Coster. I’ve a wild hunch these people may not have changed the drop-off location.”
“It’s sure as hell worth a shot,” Harry Chin said.
“God, I wish I could go in with Yancey,” Quinn said.
“With all due respect, Governor,” Chin answered, “keep your ass right where it is.”
Chin made a log at Dawn’s computer.
1800 Glock Almighty! reads the banner at the back of booth number 723. A second small banner reads Glock ’Em All.
1822 Photo of Chad Murtha arrives CBI. Description, excellent.
1830 Detective Lieutenant Mary Boedecker contacts Quinn from convention hall. She has located booth. Description of Murtha equals man at the booth.
1835 Mary Boedecker proceeds to booth.
Her appearance belied her profession. Mary Boedecker was thin, fifty-something with black and gray hair pulled back in a penny-plain knot. She wore no make-up and was dressed ranch style. Mary pointed at Chad and said she’d like to look at a pistol. Murtha unlocked chain from trigger guard.
Mary made a sour face and set the pistol down. “I think I must be at the wrong table,” she said.
Chad scrutinized her so keenly, Mary could nearly feel heat from his glare.
“I’m looking for Chad Murtha,” she said.
“I’m Chad.”
“I ranch some up in Lodgepole County.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“Billy Joe said I could obtain some real metal from you.”
“Billy Joe.”
“Yes, suh, Billy Joe.”
“I ain’t seen him, must have been a hundred shows back. I thought for sure he quit the circuit,” Chad said.
“I saw him a couple months ago in Fort Smith, Arkansas,” Mary said.
“I missed that show. I was doing something around Helena. Just what kind of metal are you interested in?”
“Swedish. The best Swedish.”
It connected! The lady was talking major money.
“Well, now, top-grade Swedish is hard to come by,” Chad gurgled, counting dollars as he spoke.
“I want ten of them,” she answered, opening her large purse and giving him a flash of her bankroll. Chad Murtha’s eyeballs clicked.
“That’s a mighty big order,” Chad said.
“You ever tried to get anything done with the United States government?” she snapped. “Me and some of my neighbors had our grazing rights on public land terminated. For two goddamn years we tried to get it reversed. It was like walking in hell and trying to argue with the devil.”
“Government is at the root of all evil,” Chad sympathized. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Mary Decker. My neighbors and me think that if we form a militia unit, we could change the government’s mind.”
“Sounds like a plan, Mary. Could I have your phone number and the name of someone who might be at the ranch?”
“Thank you, Chad,” she said, smiling broadly. She gave the number slowly. “My husband, Harry, will be there.”
“You realize, now, the class of weapon you’re looking for is top-of-the-line fully automatic and pretty near fingerprint-proof. Ten VEC–44’s, new, ten thousand rounds in long clips. We’re looking at around a thousand a copy.”
“Get