Council of Kings by Don Pendleton Read Free Book Online

uses."
    "Illegal as hell," the clerk said.
    "Illegal doesn't bother me. And I'm not from the feds. Look, some of you guys must have a contact who knows where I can find some."
    The salesman looked around; no one else was near. "Hold it down, guy. Just look around for a clerk named Emmett. He's here somewhere."
    Johnny found Emmett at the back of the store, polishing a glass counter containing the most expensive guns. There were Uzis and some HandKs and even a Weatherby Mark V rifle. Johnny explained to Emmett what he was after.
    Emmett, who was about thirty and had a trim beard and flattop haircut, took a semiauto Uzi out of the display rack.
    "You ain't asking for much, buddy, you know that? What you need them for?"
    "That's my business. I need a lot, say a sample order of a hundred M-16's fully auto, including ammo."
    "You're talking big money, man, at least sixty to seventy thousand dollars!"
    "You've got to spend money to make money. You have a contact I can talk to? I'm in a hurry."
    Emmett scratched his head, stroked his beard and developed a small tic under his left eye. He inhaled deeply and nodded. "Hell, why not. Just don't say who told you. See a guy named Joey down at Portland General Accounting. Tell him what you need. If anybody can supply it, he can."
    Johnny slid the man a twenty-dollar bill and left. Portland General Accounting — the name was fuzzily familiar. From a pocket, he took a list of Oregon firms thought by one LEA report to be associated with or owned by the Gino Canzonari family. Portland General Accounting was one of them.
    Johnny caught a cab to a plush high rise downtown. Portland General Accounting took up half the seventh floor. A reception desk in the lobby led into their end of the hall. Johnny spoke briefly to the receptionist, and a tall, heavy-set man came out who looked one hundred percent gorilla.
    They went down a hall and into a bare room.
    "Got to frisk you," the beast said. "Boss's rules."
    Johnny lifted his arms to let the man pat him down.
    Satisfied, the beast grunted and waved Johnny on to the next room. Within the fancy office with modern decor and rock-band posters on the wall stood a man about Johnny's age. He was five foot ten, slight, with auburn hair that looked dyed and a clean-shaven baby face.
    Johnny stared, perplexed. "I'm looking for someone who can tell me about the availability of fully automatic weapons."
    "You have the right man." Joey completed a computer operation on a terminal behind him, removed a diskette from the drive and put it in his desk drawer. "What do I call you?"
    "Today I'm Jim Smith. My needs are simple — one hundred M-16 fully automatic rifles. The same ones the GI's use."
    Joey sat in his executive-type leather chair and leaned back.
    "You're serious. Who told you I could help?"
    "He said not to tell you. And yes, I'm serious. I need these weapons quickly. I understand the going price is about six hundred each."
    "Could be. I'm just an accountant."
    "Sure, and my real name is Jim Smith. Can we talk business, or do I find someone else?"
    The lighting seemed unusually bright, Johnny noticed.
    "If you can deliver the one hundred," he continued, "I'll pay you half in advance for five hundred more, along with five hundred thousand rounds of ammunition and support magazines."
    "Would a foreign delivery be satisfactory?"
    "Of course. I just need to be sure of the quality of the product."
    Joey pushed a button on the side of the desk, then stood and paced around the room.
    "Let's leave it this way," he said at last. "If I can help you, I'll know within forty-eight hours. Where do I contact you?"
    "You don't," Johnny said. "I'll phone you here, and we'll meet again."
    Joey smiled. "I admire a cautious man. Incidentally, Emmett called and said you might drop by. Now I have some work to do. I'll look forward to your call."
    Johnny left by the door he had entered.
    * * *
    When the second door beyond his office closed, Joey pulled out a desk drawer and