Middle Of Nowhere

   "A sniper rifle," Gaynes said. The news that Flek had possibly acquired such a rifle had been included in the Be On Lookout as a matter of safety. Rumors were al ready circulating that Boldt was the intended target. "Chinese manufacture." She looked remarkably fresh; if she felt fatigue, she didn't show it. "This is the man who purchased it." She slid a mug shot of Bryce Abbott Flek across the table and in front of Wong. She held it in place with outstretched fingers. Wong wouldn't touch it—hadn't touched anything since he'd removed the driving gloves. He wasn't going to give police any prints they didn't have. And they didn't have his. Never would, as far as he was concerned.

   Boldt and Wong had run the rules of engagement for the better part of the last half hour, Wong careful not to get a foot snagged in an unseen trap. For his part, Boldt had not mentioned the kid interviewed behind Snookers by name.

   "German scope," Wong said. "Scope very important. Maybe he had used such scope before. Maybe he only read about it. Maybe just trying to sound like he knew what he was talking about. Get better price."

   "The range of the weapon and accuracy?" Boldt asked.

   "With that scope . . . sighted correct . . . if weapon handled by expert? Three, four hundred yards. Amateur, if he rests on a mount, two hundred yards, no problem. On shoulder, a hundred, a hundred and fifty yards he can still hit target."

   "Semi-automatic," Boldt stated.

   "Magazine holds thirty-two. One in the chamber, thirty-three." A child could empty the magazine in a few seconds, Boldt realized. Wong never lifted his head, his eyes floating in magnification and the rosy fatigue of red webbing. Meeting eyes with Boldt, he mumbled, "Cops and guns! I never understand police."

   "You're sure it's him," Boldt said, indicating the photo. Boldt felt those thirty-two shots in the back of his head.

   "Fifteen hundred dollar sure."

   "You see what he was driving?" Gaynes asked.

   "No."

   "His clothes?" Boldt questioned.

   "Jeans. Leather jacket, I think."

   "Boots?" Boldt asked. "Sneakers?"

   "Not remember. Not see man's feet."

   "Ever sold to him before?"

   "No."

   "How about this man?" Boldt asked, producing a photo of David Ansel Flek, the younger brother.

   "Never seen him."

   "He's in possession of the weapon, then?" Gaynes asked.

   "He owns weapon, yes."

   "She asked about possession," Boldt reminded him.

   The man fixed his attention on Boldt, but said nothing.

   "The scope?" Boldt inquired.

   Those eyes roamed around behind the smudged glass again.

   "I'll take that as a negative," Boldt said.

   "That's correct."

   "He still has to pick up the scope," Boldt stated, glancing hotly at Gaynes as he sensed an opening.

   "That would be correct," the man repeated.

   "When?"

   "Use new Internet site called i-ship. Delivery guaranteed, tomorrow ten o'clock."

   "Ten o'clock. You told him that?" Boldt said.

   "After lunch," he corrected. "Need time check merchandise."

   "To sight the scope for him," Gaynes suggested.

   Both men looked over at her—Wong with an urgent appraisal that came too late, Boldt with respect.

   The gun dealer said nothing.

   Gaynes said, "If you've handled the weapon before it's used to kill somebody, you could be accused as an accomplice. Especially if we lift a print."

   The man smirked at this impossibility.

   "Even without your prints on it," Boldt said. "So be glad none of this is on the record."

   Gaynes asked, "What distance did he want you to calibrate it for?"

   "Cops and guns," the man repeated, shaking his head.

   "Answer the question," Boldt said.

   "A hundred and fifty to two hundred yards," the man replied.

   "So he's planning on firing from the shoulder," Boldt said.

   "A hundred fifty yards. That is request. That is what I deliver."

   "No," Gaynes told him firmly. "You'll sight it for fifty to seventy-five yards. The first shots'll fly low."

   The man shook his head. "Not possible. My reputation."

   "Seventy-five yards," Gaynes repeated.

   "He maybe test weapon," the man complained.

   "With your reputation?" she mocked. "I doubt it. Maybe he'll sight it, maybe not. If not, then maybe we spare his first intended target a bullet." She ended this sentence with her eyes on Boldt, who felt chills run down his spine.

   Boldt said, "We'll collar him before he ever gets the chance to fire that weapon."

   "Maybe we will," Gaynes said.

   Turning to Wong, Boldt informed the man, "We're going to need you to put one of our people behind your counter with you." Wong shook his head vehemently, those haunting eyes rolling like dice. Boldt had to amend the deal he'd made with Mama Lu, and it bothered him to do so. "And if you won't agree," Boldt continued, "we'll detain you indefinitely and put our guy in your place."

C H A P T E R

38