5

Jack loitered at the rear of the Isher Sports Shop and made small talk with Abe about the wake and funeral until the door closed behind the last customer. When he was sure they had the shop to themselves, he leaned on the scarred counter.

“Any news?”

Abe spread his hands and shook his head. “Not a thing.”

Jack had asked Abe to poll his fellow gunrunners about the Tavor-2.

“Nothing?”

“What can I say? This will take time. Not like there’s a directory out there. And the ones I do know aren’t talking.”

“Really? I’m surprised they wouldn’t trust you.”

“Trust shmust. Who knows anymore in this business? What if I’d been picked up and what if I’d cut a deal to rat out my competition? After nine-eleven, already we were paranoid. Now…”

Jack nodded. The runners took a beating from all the post-9/11 security measures—especially the truck and van searches.

Abe said, “After La Guardia, with the feds trying to trace the Arabs’ weapons, we’re all running scared.”

“Nobody’s saying anything?”

“Like clams they become as soon as they hear what I’m asking. Not that I expected them to yammer like yentas, but I can see the shutters close and hear the doors slam when I say the magic word.”

“Tavor-two?”

“Right. ‘Never heard of it’… ‘Never carried it’… ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about’… ‘Why ask me? I run a candy store.’ Bupkis I got. Sorry.”

“It’s all right. Least you tried.”

“Until this cools down or something breaks, like mummies they’ll be. Too scared of the feds.”

That started an idea…

“But what if they’re hit by something that scares them more?”

He decided to put in a call to Joey Castles.