Broadway Bounty

Chapter Twenty-eight

Largo had followed Decker to Julian’s Gun Shop, which he knew well. He also used Lee Christopher for special work. Christopher knew Largo by sight but did not know his name or that he worked for Bookman.

One of Bookman’s hard and fast rules when he agreed to take Largo on was that anonymity be maintained. It was only lately that Largo had begun to chafe beneath that cloak.

Maybe Decker’s search for a man named Ready, and Armand Coles’s involvement, would be the setup Largo needed to cast off that cloak.

Maybe.

They each had another beer. Then they walked over to Julian’s Gun Shop.

“Why doesn’t he change the name?” Decker asked.

“If your brother started the business, would you change the name?”

“I see your point.”

When they got to the shop, the front door was locked, as Christopher had said it would be. Rose-wood banged on it for a while, until the tall man came and opened it.

“Come in, come in,” Christopher said. He seemed to be very excited about something.

“Did you come up with something?” Decker asked.

“Did I!” Christopher said. “Come and see.”

They followed Lee Christopher into his workshop. The walls were covered with all kinds of guns, as well as some other weapons.

“Quite a collection,” Decker said, eyeing a curved saber hanging on the wall.

“Thank you,” Christopher said. “I’m quite proud of it. Here, here is your jacket. Try it on.”

Decker let the man help him on with the coat.

“Now, look inside, on the left side.”

“Why the left side?” Decker asked. “I’m right-handed. I guess I should have told you that.”

“I saw that when you gave me the gun,” Christopher said. “It doesn’t matter. Look.”

Decker looked inside at the back of the coat. He saw not a holster but two bands that were closed.

“They’re light,” he said.

“Clamshell,” Christopher said. “Strong but light. And they’re on hinges.”

“Hinges?” Decker asked. “What for?”

“Watch.”

Christopher picked up Decker’s shotgun. As Decker held the coat open, he swung the bands open on their hinges, fitted the shotgun into the place, then snapped them back into place. The shotgun was now fitted snugly into the bands.

“Not so light now,” Decker said.

“Keeping it from being seen is going to be your problem. If you keep your arm over it and keep the weight from hanging, you should be all right.”

“How do I get it out when I want it?”

“That’s the beauty of this. Let the jacket go.”

Decker let it go, and it closed. It hung badly from the weight of the gun, but if he kept his hand in the pocket, he could keep the weight under control.

“Now reach for it with your right hand,” Christopher said, his eyes shining.

Decker reached for the shotgun, and as his hand closed over it, the two bands snapped open and the shotgun came free in his hand.

“You see?” Christopher said, a look of glee on his face.

Decker stared at the tall gunsmith, then fit the shotgun back into place and snapped the bands closed. When he went for the gun this time, he did so faster. The hinges snapped the bands back, and the shotgun seemed to leap free.

“You see how much easier it is for you to get it by reaching across to the left side?” Christopher asked.

“Yes,” Decker said, “even faster than if it was on my hip.”

He put the gun back in place and snapped the hinges shut.

“That’s amazing,” he said.

“That’s fast,” Rosewood said.

“The hinges snapped open as soon as you touch the gun, putting the slightest pressure on them, and yet they won’t open accidentally. I can practically guarantee that.”

Decker put the shotgun back in place and faced Christopher.

“I can see you’re as good as Billy said you were.”

“It’s just something I’ve been toying with,” the man said, looking embarrassed. “You’ve given me the chance to put it into practice.”

“How much do I owe you?”

Christopher quoted a price that surprised Decker.

“That’s too cheap.”

“As I said,” the tall man said, “you’ve given me a chance to put something into practice. That’s more valuable to me than money.”

Decker looked at Rosewood for a sign as to whether or not he should argue, and Rosewood shook his head.

Decker paid Christopher what he asked.

“Thank you,” the tall man said.

“I should thank you.”

“I don’t think so,” the other man said.

“Why?”

“Because that rig will probably get you killed.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s obvious to me you need that gun because you’re going into a nest of vipers.”

“So why will I end up getting killed?”

“Because it’s been my experience with vipers,” Christopher said, “that one of them will usually take a bite out of you.”

“I’ll let you know what happens.”

“I’ll probably read about it in the newspapers.”

“Either way,” Decker agreed, “you probably will.”

When Decker and Rosewood came out of the gun shop, Largo was across the street, out of sight. His sharp eye picked up the heavy hang of Decker’s jacket immediately.

Decker appeared ready to go and have a drink at the Bucket of Blood.