“Somebody’s spent a lot of time and money on this,” Nate said, then looked at Quinn. “Shall we?”
Quinn moved the flashlight over the makeshift stairwell. It seemed to be exactly what it looked like.
“Keep your eyes open,” he said.
Nate nodded, then stepped onto the staircase and began descending into apartment 04-21. Quinn followed right behind.
As expected, the stairs ended in the closet of another bedroom. But unlike the bedroom upstairs, this one had no furniture inside. Instead, it seemed to be some sort of storage room. There were dozens of cardboard boxes and wooden crates stacked neatly along the wall, filling up nearly half the room.
Quinn ran his flashlight over them, but there were no markings indicating what might be inside. Nate walked over and put a hand on a box at the top of a stack. He pushed, but the box barely moved.
“Heavy,” he said.
Quinn looked at his watch. Only ten minutes had passed. Though plenty of time remained, they still needed to hurry. He wanted to be out of the building and miles away by the time the power came back on.
“Leave them for now,” Quinn said, then pointed toward the main part of the apartment. “Check for heat signatures again.”
Nate moved the phone in a wide arc, taking in the entire apartment beyond.
“Clear,” Nate said.
They stepped out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Quinn motioned for Nate to wait, then moved to his left to check the master bedroom. More boxes. Bigger than those in the other room, but also unmarked.
He retraced his steps and headed toward the main part of the apartment, this time with Nate following. As they neared the end of the hall, they slowed. The flashlight revealed little of the living room beyond, only the side of some bookcases along the wall.
“Check again,” he said to Nate.
Nate scanned the room ahead of them. “Still nothing.”
Quinn took a single step into the living room, then moved his flashlight slowly through the space. As the light revealed more and more of the room’s contents, the skin at the base of his neck began to tingle.
CHAPTER
“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?” NATE SAID.
“Don’t touch anything,” Quinn ordered.
Despite the fact they were both still wearing their gloves, he didn’t want to do a thing until he’d had a moment to process what they’d discovered.
The bookcases they had seen from the hallway weren’t bookcases at all. They were display cabinets.
That explained the phony locks, Quinn thought. The door in the public hallway was just for show.
In the middle of the room were several glass-topped tables. More display cases, Quinn guessed. There was an exception, though. The table near the entrance to the kitchen appeared to be a desk. On top, a small lamp and a laptop computer.
Quinn slowly stepped toward the nearest cabinet. They were made of brushed metal, dulled to a silver gray. Stylish, expensive, and sturdy. Quinn aimed his light through the glass door, examining the contents.
Pistols. Each displayed in profile against black cloth that covered the back of the cabinet. Beside each gun was a small plaque with the make, model number, and other vital statistics of the corresponding piece. There were a dozen in this cabinet alone. A couple of Taurus pistols and nearly the whole Glock family.
Quinn moved on to the next cabinet. More pistols. SIGs this time. A few Smith & Wessons and two Walthers.
“Is this a private museum?” Nate asked.
“No,” Quinn said. “A showroom.”
“Showroom? You’re kidding, right?”
Quinn shook his head.
“You mean they’re...”
There was no reason for Quinn to finish Nate’s sentence. It was obvious what this was—a sample room for an arms dealer. But not the typical street-level variety. Whoever this room belonged to had to be filling some major orders.
“Take pictures of everything. Both wide and detailed. But don’t touch,” Quinn said.
“You already told me that.”
“I’m telling you again.”
A little further down the wall, Quinn found cabinets full of rifles: sniper, assault, even a few specialized target weapons. Those short enough were displayed horizontally.
