“Vito suggested we come in my car, since yours is getting to be a little too well known in the neighborhood, so I’ll pick you up at ten-thirty.”
“Okay.” Stone hung up.
“He talked to Vito, and it’s okay?”
“Yeah.”
“And that’s the plan?”
“Yeah.”
56
STONE LED HOLLY upstairs to his safe and opened it. “I’m not comfortable going after this guy with your Sig-Sauer and my Walther,” he said, rooting around in the safe. “They’re both .380s, and we need more stopping power.”
“What did you have in mind?” Holly asked.
Stone handed her a gun. “This is a Sig P239,” he said. “It’s a little larger than your P232, and it’s nine millimeter.”
“I own one. What are we using for ammo?”
He rooted around some more and came up with a magazine. “This is loaded with MagSafe ammo. You know about it?”
“Sounds familiar; remind me.”
“Instead of a lead slug, it’s epoxy with fairly large buckshot encapsulated. It will penetrate soft body armor, but the great thing is that even if it goes all the way through a body, it won’t ricochet, and it won’t kill some bystander. Makes a big wound in the original recipient, though.”
“Why doesn’t everybody use it all the time?”
“Because it costs something like three bucks a round. It’s best saved for special occasions.”
“And what are you carrying?”
Stone handed her a pistol. “It’s a Sig Pro. Guy I know sent it to me. Got a fifteen-round magazine.”
“I want this one,” she said, tucking it into the belt of her jeans.
“Oh, all right, I’ll take the P239.” He handed her the Pro’s magazine and closed the safe. “Let’s go.”
“Okay,” Dino said as they headed downtown at mid-morning, “here’s what Vito told me. You ready?”
“We’re ready,” Stone said.
“He’s luring Trini down to the store with a really good story.”
“What’s the story?”
“The story is, a truck is going to make a delivery to Vito’s grocery store, and half of the truck is given over to a compartment rigged up as a room. It’s air-conditioned, it has a bed and a chair and lights and a chemical toilet and a lot of dirty magazines. The truck actually exists, according to Vito.”
“What’s the truck got to do with this?” Holly asked.
“Vito has told Trini that they’re going to take him to Florida in the truck, two guys driving nonstop. He’s got food and water and the magazines in the back, and they’re there in twenty-four hours.”
“Trini wants to go back to Florida?”
“He says he can get lost among his homeboys down there, and then he’ll get a ship out somewhere. Anybody stops the truck, the rear part is stacked to the ceiling with cartons of Italian foodstuffs. Pretty slick, huh?”
“Pretty slick,” Holly admitted.