The last thing Nikki did was push the PLAY MESSAGE button on Anthony Minelli?s answering machine.
7
Nikki Enders walked Fifth Avenue like she owned it, casual strollers parting before her determined stride. She wore a severe black pantsuit, white blouse with flared collar. She carried a slick eelskin briefcase. Her hair today: a shoulder-length Betty Boop, midnight-black bangs.
She looked like a hip young corporate lawyer on her way to crush a delinquent board of directors.
Nikki turned in to an expensive luggage store, suitcases and trunks and garment bags for the chic traveler on the go. A clerk asked if he could help her.
?I need to speak to Mr. Stringfellow,? Nikki said.
?I?m afraid Mr. Stringfellow is quite busy. Perhaps I can help you make a selection.?
?Tell Mr. Stringfellow I need a sturdy bag for a long and dangerous trip.?
The clerk raised an eyebrow. ?Are you traveling far or wide??
?To the four corners of the earth and to the bottom of the deep blue sea.?
The clerk inclined his head and said he would fetch Mr. Stringfellow.
A moment later Stringfellow appeared, a gray-haired little man with thick glasses, an expensive blue pin- striped suit, muted red tie with a subtle pattern. He looked at Nikki over the glasses. ?Ah. You again. I?d have remembered you even without the passwords.?
?I should hope so,? Nikki said. ?I?ve spent enough of my money here.?
?We always appreciate a good customer. Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea?? He glanced at the Rolex on his wrist. ?It?s a bit early, but we have a nice sherry.?
?No, thank you. I?ll probably need your help with a few selections.?
?Of course. Follow me.?
Stringfellow led her into the back room, then down a narrow stairway into the basement. He pulled a large wad of keys from his pocket, picked through them a few moments before finding the right one. He unlocked a heavy wooden door and swung it open. A dimly lit hall. At the end, another door, but this time with an electronic keypad. Nikki noticed Stringfellow kept his body between her and the keypad as he entered the code. She heard a lock click, then a whoosh of air and the door slid to the side.
The large chamber on the other side of the door was brightly lit and operating-room clean. Shelves and cabinets displayed a staggering assortment of small arms, from the smallest pistol to the most daunting assault rifle. Nikki had retrieved a .32 pistol and silencer from a Grand Central Station locker upon returning to New York from Europe. She anticipated needing more.
?Quite a variety,? she said.
?Perhaps if you describe your needs,? Stringfellow suggested, ?I might be able to narrow it down.?
?Multiple targets from multiple angles.?
?Range??
?In close,? Nikki said. ?Room-to-room stuff.?
?We can make you a price on a pair of Macs. We have a surplus of tens and elevens.?
Nikki wrinkled her nose at the thought. ?A bit too?uh?Chuck Norris.?
Stringfellow smiled slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. ?I think I understand. How about this?? He gestured to what appeared to be an ordinary semiautomatic pistol. ?The Glock G18C. Nine-millimeter. Handles light like an ordinary pistol but has full-auto capabilities. I can offer you an extended thirty-round magazine for maximum kill potential.?
Nikki hefted the machine pistol, felt the weight and balance. ?Perfect. I?ll take two, and six of the extended magazines. I?ll need a thousand rounds of nine-millimeter ammunition too.?
