Leon Uris - A God In Ruins

“I follow you,” Quinn said. “What does Chad look like?”

“Heavy guy, big gut, used to wrestle professionally. Blond hair, he dyes it, like sixty years old and usually wearing a baseball cap.”

“Can we get a photograph of him?”

“Probably. He’s done some time in Tennessee.”

“Continue, Hoop.”

“Chad’s gonna say something like, “What kind of metal you looking for?” and you say, “Swedish metal.” He’ll want a ten percent deposit. Then he’ll give you the location of his camper park and the number of his parking space. He’ll probably tell you to show up at two or three in the morning.”

“Couldn’t he just take off with the deposit?”

“No, not and deal in gun shows for a dozen years. Honor among thieves.

That’s the standard time when the deliveries take place.”

“Hmmm.”

“See, he’s got to keep his exhibits open at the convention hall until they close, usually around ten-thirty to midnight. Then he has to get the guns.”

“And, in theory, he’ll lead us to the mother lode.”

“That’s the ticket, Governor.”

“Next,” Quinn said, “there is a special parking lot for exhibitors at the convention center. What’s he driving?”

“A light blue Ford pickup, trades it in every other year for another light blue Ford pickup. It has a stainless steel camper shell over the truck bed. He’ll have Tennessee plates.”

“Hoop, think hard, are there any other exhibitors who can be as helpful to us as Chad Murtha?”

“No, he’s the main man. He’ll look over the exhibitors, and if there are some who have worked with him, he’ll select maybe four or five, depending on how sales are going.”

Hooper was unaware of pressure in his chest. He had always thought the pain was a part of his being. As he spoke, he blew out words coming from his deep interior, and it was like a relief from a tremendous crushing machine.

“Let me speak to George,” Quinn said.

“Apple ton.”

“I’m setting some things into motion. Can you put Hooper in a holding cell so I can stay in contact, if needed?”

“The present setup is very secure,” Appleton answered, and gave his phone number. “We’ll be here. For Christ’s sake, don’t forget to inform us.”

“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 Clock Almighty! reads the banner at the back of booth number 723.

A second small banner reads Clock “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 them,” Mary ordered.

1802 Detectives locate Chad Murtha’s pickup truck in exhibitors’ lot and attach a radio signal under its tailgate.

1831 Photograph of Chad Murtha arrives at the CBI. Record shows some small-time robbery convictions. He has been fairly clean in past five years.

1840 Detective Lieutenant Mary Boedecker contacts Dawn Mock. From description of photo, Mary is certain they have the right man.

1841 Detective Hymes has security point a camera down from roof to tape Chad Murtha’s booth. Murtha checks the deposit for marked bills. He is satisfied. Murtha proceeds to pay phone and dials the number.

The number is routed into Dawn Mock’s office on phone line two. Harry Chin lifts the receiver.