Without remorse - Tom Clancy [45]
'There's at least three drug organizations up and running now. None of them are very nice folks,' Allen said evenly. 'Tell me more.'
'My friend doesn't want much involvement. Just some information for you, that's it, Frank. If it goes further, we can reevaluate then. We're talking some scary people if this story is true.'
Allen considered that. He'd never dwelt upon Kelly's background, but he knew enough. Kelly was a trained diver, he knew, a bosun's mate who'd fought in the brown-water Navy in the Mekong Delta, supporting the 9th Infantry; a squid, but a very competent, careful squid whose services had come highly recommended to the force from somebody in the Pentagon and who'd done a nice job retraining the force's divers, and, by the way, earning a nice check for it, Allen reminded himself. The 'person' had to be female. Kelly would never worry about guarding a man that tightly. Men just didn't think that way about other men. If nothing else, it sure sounded interesting.
'You're not screwing me around, are you?' he had to ask.
'That's not my way, man,' Kelly assured him. 'My rules: it's for information purposes only, and it's a quiet meet. Okay?'
'You know, anybody else, I'd probably say come right in here and that would be it, but I'll play along with you. You did break the Gooding case open for me. We got him, you know. Life plus thirty. I owe you for that. Okay, I'll play along for now. Fair enough?'
'Thanks. What's your schedule like?'
'Working late shift this week.' It was just after four in the afternoon, and Allen had just come on duty. He didn't know that Kelly had called three times that day already without leaving a message. 'I get off around midnight, one o'clock, like that. It depends on the night,' he explained. 'Some are busier than others.'
'Tomorrow night. I'll pick you up at the front door. We can have a little supper together.'
Allen frowned. This was like a James Bond movie, secret agent crap. But he did know Kelly to be a serious man, even if he didn't know squat about police work.
'See you then, sport.'
"Thanks, Frank. 'Bye.' The line clicked off and Allen went back to work, making a note on his desk calendar.
'Are you scared?' he asked.
'A little,' she admitted.
He smiled. 'That's normal. But you heard what I said. He doesn't know anything about you. You can always back out if you want. I'll be carrying a gun all the time. And it's just a talk. You can get in and get out. We'll do it in one day - one night, really. And I'll be with you all the time.'
'Every minute?'
'Except when you're in the ladies' room, honey. There you have to look out for yourself.' She smiled and relaxed.
'I have to fix dinner,' she said, heading off to the kitchen.
Kelly went outside. Something in him called for more weapons practice, but he'd done that already. Instead he walked into the equipment bunker and took the .45 down from the rack. First he depressed the stud and action spring. Next he swiveled the bushing. That allowed the spring to go free. Kelly dismounted the slide assembly, removing the barrel, and now the pistol was field-stripped. He held the barrel up to a light, and, as expected, it was dirty from firing. He cleaned every surface, using rags, Hoppe's cleaning solvent, and a toothbrush until there was no trace of dirt on any metal surface. Next he lightly oiled the weapon. Not too much oil, for that would attract dirt and grit, which could foul and jam the pistol at an inconvenient moment. Finished cleaning, he reassembled the Colt quickly and expertly - it was something he could and did do with his eyes closed. It had a nice feel in his hand as he jacked the slide back a few times to make sure it was properly assembled. A final visual inspection confirmed it.
Kelly took two loaded magazines from a drawer, along with a single loose round. He inserted one loaded clip into the piece, working the slide to load the first round in the chamber. He